The Universe is so Much Bigger
by Dancing Darkness
Summary: It isn't every day the TARDIS throws a hissy and for the life of him he's going to figure out whats got her in a tizzy this time! Battlestar or no! **10th Doctor, post Donna finale, crossover with BSG2003**
1. The Rattle

Hello! I am back! It's been awhile...I went to uni and had to abandon some old projects and well...what can I say? I've returned in the summer of work and no uni to write a new crossover (I love them just that much) since I've been in a Doctor Who funk lately. There'll be some other bits in there later too but I don't want to spoil it for you all!

Now here's the important bits: This is Doctor Who (10th Doctor - David Tenant is so cute XD) crossed with Battlestar Galactica 2003. I haven't seen the original series so don't shout okay? It's set just after the Donner Noble finale when he's once more wandering alone. I claim none of the characters yadda yadda yadda (insert disclaimer here).

Anywho now thats out the way please do enjoy! I hope you like it....I have no beta either so if anyone feels up to the job please step forward!

XD!

------

**Chapter One - The Rattle**

It was the rattling that started it all. A rattle-clank that began as a niggle, the smallest of niggles, behind an auxiliary control panel. That control section didn't do much; a coffee here and a change of clothes there. Synthetic inanimate replication in its most basic form. But it was _there_ that the niggle started. The thing about a niggle-rattle is that it isn't content with just continuing to be that small, insignificant echo is the back of the mind. It wants to get bigger. So big that soon it is an almighty clanking-crash that shakes the very ground beneath your feet.

At the same time it would be foolish to mistake a niggle as anything insubstantial; things do not begin rattling on their own. There is a method, a reason and a desire behind such rattles even if others cannot comprehend them. If the desire is strong enough then the niggle gets stronger and if the niggle gets stronger then the desire becomes a reality. So it is surely obvious to ignore such a little niggling rattle-clatter.

But when the seemingly insignificant auxiliary control panel beneath and slightly to the left of the large blue leaver began to cutter, twitch and cackle to itself he paid it no mind. After all the old girl was falling apart these days; with things so hectic he'd barely had time to repair her. Poor thing. He gave the panel a sound thump and the noise stopped. He assumed that was the end of it. Not an hour later the rattle began again but louder. This warranted a harder thump. Once again the rattle vanished but only to return angrier, louder.

He frowned and from the inside pocket of his long brown coat pulled a pair of black reading glasses. He pressed them on his nose and bent down to have a closer look. The rattle, now a clanging, had noted the attention and proceeded to become even more prominent. The man straightened, backed up a pace and crossed his arms. He narrowed his eyes at the revolving, glowing blue cylinder at the centre of the machine and cocked his head. As if in response it flashed a lighter blue.

"No," he said with a tone of finality.

The rattle got even louder, this time accompanied by a shuddering that was almost like growling.

"Sulking will not change my answer," he said patiently, as if talking to a child. "We don't have time for one of your moods."

The rattling sputtered, offended, before rising to an intolerable level.

"Now, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings but you're being ridiculous," he sighed, removing his glasses and pocketing them.

The light flashed red, angry.

He threw up his hands in exasperation and annoyance. "We are not having an argument, not this time. No. And that is final!"

However the rattling had other ideas and the whole thing was not as final as he wished it to be. The shuddering became violent as the ship literally hurled itself off course. He was thrown across the room like a doll until he managed to grab hold of nearby railing. If anything the shuddering and rattling got worse, reaching a deafening level. Things were rattled of shelves, panels were pushed loose and the whole thing seemed ready to fly apart at the hinges.

He forced his way to a nearby control terminal and set of leavers and big red buttons to try and alter their course. But she would not listen, she stubbornly refused. She'd never refused before! Who was he kidding? She'd done this far more times than he was comfortable with. He was almost thrown off his feet again.

Then suddenly it all stopped. They'd landed. That was good. Where they'd landed was the question. He dusted himself off as he straightened, sending a slight glare at the central unit and strode to the door on the far side of the room. Seizing the handle he pulled it open slowly and stuck his head out. He was thankful for the constantly circling air field around his ship because he was met with the open blackness of space.

He rolled his eyes. "You've placed us in the middle of nowhere," he accused dryly.

They lurched sideways.

"Fine. You've placed us in none-planetary orbit in the middle of nowhere by establishing your own leash gravitational field. Very nice. Now can we leave?" He slammed the door and turned to the centre of his ship.

It flashed again, blue and curious.

"What?" he replied, confused. He darted over to another control panel and began to run a routine search. The results appeared on holo-projection and revealed a fairly large ship, dreadnought class at a guess, gliding ahead of a smaller fleet of commercial ships. They were orbiting the dreadnought just out of radar range; the problem with that was that, while they couldn't be seen, he couldn't really see what he was dealing with either.

"What are you looking at?" he asked in bewilderment, running a confused hand through his hair. There was truly nothing remarkable about this ship to set it apart from any other vessel in the vicinity.

The rattle started again, echoing around him.

"Well clearly I don't see it," he grumbled back.

Suddenly everything was quiet. Quiet just for a second. Then the ship roared to life again, leaving orbit and ripping into the time stream. A few hectic seconds later it landed with a sound so silent a cat's step would have sounded louder.

"Wow. Something must really have interested you, old girl, to actually land us on a dreadnought class," he mused, patting the computer fondly. "I suppose it can't hurt to look. Even if I am getting tired of these goose chases."

He shook his coat once more and ran a quick inventory. He had his wallet, screwdriver, phone, glasses, a rubber duck and four chocolate bourbon biscuits. Where'd he picked up those? He strode to the door once more and eased it open, peaking out. Dreadnought battle ships had soldiers on after all.

From the look of the room he could tell he was in some kind of munitions storage in an out-of-the-way sort of corner. At least she'd hidden them. He tentatively stepped out and then the door locked behind him. "Yes," he grumbled, glaring at the blue police box, "I'm going, I'm going."

He started forward, brushing his hands down the walls. Metal, lead-steal mix, made to withstand nuclear or cold fusion attacks. Pretty advanced, post twenty fourth century probably. From the voices he could hear filtering through the nearby air vents he knew he was beyond the Lion's Head nebula, the occupants of the ship were speaking Caprican. Weird considering that a Caprican ship shouldn't be out this far for at least another four hundred years, they had light travel but hadn't really been anywhere. What were so many doing so far from Caprica?

He emerged onto what seemed to be a hangar deck filled with fighter planes. The name painting across the wall, old and fading, confirmed his suspicions. That and the munitions room and fighter spacecraft and armed soldiers and the fact that they were Caprican. This was a Battlestar. The ultimate of the Caprican fleet. That was interesting.

"Excuse me, civilian, could you please tell me why you are on the main deck?" a voice behind him barked. He was so preoccupied with the wall he hadn't noticed the sudden ceasing of noise in the hangar deck.

He turned around to see a marine, or at least he guessed, with a gun. The gun was pointed at him. Casually pointed mind you, but still pointed at him.

"Oh! Hello!" he beamed placing his hands behind his back, unperturbed.

"State your name and rank." Calm but a bit pushy.

He beamed even brighter and took his hands down. "I'm the Doctor," he grinned holding out his hand to shake.

-------

So so so? What did you think? Please review and give me self-esteen! I look back at my old stuff and cry! I want to write good stuff so criticism is welcome!

The TARDIS totally talks to him O.O. She is alive after all. She has moods!

Oh yeah! Anyone wanna be my beta? (plugging as much as possible)

Reviewers get cookies! (Made of internet).

- D


	2. I'm the Doctor

Hey guys! How speedy am I? I've been writing a lot actually so expect the next few updates to be quite quick. Anywho I won't keep you long!

The offer for a beta is still out there! Any takers?

*hands out cookies of internet to reviewers*

Thanks for reviewing!

Enjoy!

----

"_Excuse me, civilian, could you please tell me why you are on the main deck?" a voice behind him barked. He was so preoccupied with the wall he handed noticed the sudden ceasing of noise in the hangar deck. _

_He turned around to see a marine, or at least he guessed, with a gun. The gun was pointed at him. Casually pointed mind you, but still pointed at him._

"_Oh! Hello!" he beamed placing his hands behind his back, unperturbed._

"_State your name and rank." Calm but a bit pushy._

_He beamed even brighter and took his hands down. "I'm the Doctor," he grinned holding out his hand to shake._

---

**Chaper Two: I'm the Doctor**

The Doctor smiled as the man continued to stare at him, hoping that he'd just blend in as he had done a dozen times before. Suddenly he relaxed, the gun dropped and his body fell into a far easier stance. "Why didn't you say so?" he demanded, annoyed. "I thought we'd assigned the last of the transfers a few minutes ago."

The Doctor blinked.

The marine gestured at him, wanting to be given something clearly. "Well? Do you have your papers?" he asked, an impatient frown creasing his brow.

The Doctor started, "Oh! Of course, I'll just get them," he reached into his inside pocket and, after a moment's consideration put on his black reading glasses. Best to look official. He then pulled out a small plastic wallet and flashed a blank piece of paper. "As you can see I'm Doctor John Smith, qualified and merited." He puffed up his chest.

"What are you qualified to doctor in?" Nice, all official.

"I'm mostly a scientist but I can perform basic medicine and surgery." He beamed once more.

The soldier examined the paper closely, squinting. Then he nodded firmly in confirmation. "Right then, Doctor Smith, if you'd follow me I'll escort you to the medical block so you can get assigned." The marine turned smartly and marched away across the hangar deck. The Doctor followed at his heels, masking his curiosity with the same look of depression that everyone else seemed to have.

The corridors was long, winding and maze like and the people in them all seemed to be in a great hurry. It was more than once that he had to press again the walls to avoid a contingent of running pilots. They passed what looked like a pilot briefing room where the head of command, presumably, was laying out what was clearly a battle strategy. That was interesting. Why were civilians and non conscripted personnel transferring onto what was clearly an active warship?

The marine stopped them outside a set of automatic metal doors and gestured inside. "Here we are. You're to report to Doctor Salik, he and Doctor Baltar will get you integrated." Without another word the soldier abandoned him there.

"Why is everyone here so busy? Not even time for tea," the Doctor murmured as he strode through the large doors.

What became abundantly clear was that this block was understaffed. The ward was buzzing with the injured, sick and dying. They were tended by a few individuals, clearly nurses, and not that many doctors. In fact he could only see two. Well two men in white coats. That meant they were doctors right? He straightened his jacket and moved forward behind what looked like an elderly man, the superior doctor he guessed and cleared his throat. "Excuse me?"

The man turned, looking up from a chart questioningly. "What?" he barked, stressed.

"I've just transferred. Told to report to a Doctor Salik," the Doctor hated lying but this was necessary to get back to his TARDIS without being discovered.

"Ah, what's your qualification and name?" the man replied, tucking the board under his arm.

The Doctor smiled winningly, "I'm a doctor, the Doctor or Doctor Smith if you like."

"Specialisation?" Doctor Salik was now marking something down on a chart. Clearly not a man of many words.

"Physics and mathematics. Some medicine too," he mimicked the stern tone of Salik while letting his eyes wander around the room.

Salik looked up at him calculatingly, "well, since you've basic in medicine you'll have to serve a half shift here; you can at least stitch wounds?" When the Doctor nodded affirmative he continued, "I'll send you onto Gaius Baltar, you must have heard of him – the genius and whatnot – to make use of your science. I believe he's developing some kind of sensor. It's not my field. You'll find him through the office there," he pointed with a pen before returning to the chart. "Your first shift will start in -" he paused to look at his watch, "-twelve hours. I expect to see you on time. Good day, Doctor Smith." With that he was gone to tend another patient.

The Doctor blinked in the deluge of information before smiling wryly. It was nice to be needed. He turned to look at the office in question or, rather, laboratory. He approached and opened the door quietly, running an eye over the equipment. Primitive and definitely twenty fourth or fifth century. It was empty, clearly Doctor Baltar was elsewhere.

On the central worktop there was a mess of wires and complicated parts, from a brief scan the Doctor concluded that this was clearly some kind of biological scanner. It was brilliant, truly brilliant, in the selection of parts and from the theorem on the far wall it was clear that a genius had devised this. Too bad it wouldn't work. The man lacked the parts. What was it Mickey used to say? It always came down to the parts.

Automatically he reached out for the bits of machinery and began to deftly weave them together. He glanced around to make sure no one was present before pulling out his screwdriver to finish the job. He further made sure to do it according to the man's calculations, best to not interfere just yet. He wasn't going to stay long after all.

"What are you doing?" cried a slightly panicked, high pitched voice.

The Doctor turned to see a nervous looking man with long, slightly greasy, brown hair and glasses in a white coat. This must be Gaius Baltar. "Oh! Sorry, I was just putting this together. Seemed interesting. Some kind of bio-matter scanner I'm guessing."

The man started forward, "well yes actually, I'm hoping to – wait! Who are you again?" The man seemed to be donning an air of arrogance to shield himself.

"Doctor Smith, just transferred. Astrophysics specialisation," he replied promptly.

The man sighed and sat down, "well you can help if you want. I doubt you'll be able to keep up. I am the most intelligent man on this ship and that tends to daunt people."

The Doctor secretly raised his eyebrows. He was one of the most intelligent beings in the universe so he doubted this human would bother him. Not to split hairs or anything.

Baltar picked up the device the Doctor had been assembling and examined it closely, twitching slightly. "This is correct," he spoke after a moment, mildly impressed.

"Of course, I followed your formula," the Doctor replied, gesturing to the board.

"Ah, of course." Awkward silence followed.

This man made him uneasy, like something scratching in the back of his head. "Why are you creating a bio-matter scanner anyway? Seems rather superfluous to me."

Baltar looked up at him, "to catch the Cylons masquerading in human skins as per wishes of our good Admiral. While almost completely biologically human their neural pathways and nervous systems are actually constructed out of a slightly different material."

That explained very little, from the Doctor's knowledge of history the Capricans had yet to encounter any other race (not even the rest of humanity). He leaned over Baltar's shoulder to examine the scanner himself, "and your machine picks this up?"

"More or less," the doctor sighed. "A full blood test taking four hours is needed for that kind of analysis. What this scanner does is a quick survey of the composition of the body scanned and compares it what a human body should contain. It picks up if something is not human."

"That sounds a little haphazard," the Doctor mused, scratching his head as he thought. "All of us are slightly different after all."

"The difference between us and the Cylons is large enough that it works," Baltar replied confidently. He twitched again.

It was then that the Doctor felt it. It was invasive, intrusive, a touch on his very soul. It was like being drenched in water. It was a telepathic inquiry, a reach and search that categorised the entire ship. It was as if it was searching for them. A sweeping glance, not at all refined. More clumsy really. He doubted any normal human would notice. All beings contain some empathy, for example knowing when they're being watched. It was defensive trait after all. Though clumsy this work was more invasive and it was only a species telepathic by nature, Time Lords for example, that would notice it.

He turned, searching. It was like as fly in his ear that wouldn't go away. The touch wasn't even human. Yet there shouldn't be anything in this area of space. Nothing capable of that at any rate. Quickly he reached out after it into the blackness of space. As quickly as he reached it was gone.

"Doctor Smith? Is something wrong?" His own name called him back to reality. He turned to see Baltar staring at him. He opened his mouth to reply when suddenly the world went alive with sirens and his head was suddenly full of the panicked, terrified thoughts of every human on the ship.

----

Not the greatest I know but its a scene setter! So what do you think of the predicament of our favourite skinny man in a suit?

I love reviews and reviewers!

Please love me in return!

XD!

- D


	3. Faster Than Light

Hello again, took a bit longer to get this out than I would've liked but here we are! I have a new chapter for you and I really hope you enjoy it. Looking back over the old chapters I've noticed a couple of grammar and word mistakes so I'm working to correct those. The pitfall of not having a trusty beta (glares at best friend).

**Long live Warhammer40k: **It's not an alternate time line, I've actually got a different plan but never fear! You'll see! You'll all SEE! (twitchytwitch)

Enjoy!!

**---  
**

**Chapter Three: Faster Than Light**

_He turned, searching. It was like as fly in his ear that wouldn't go away. The touch wasn't even human. Yet there shouldn't be anything in this area of space. Nothing capable of that at any rate. Quickly he reached out after it into the blackness of space. As quickly as he reached it was gone._

"_Doctor Smith? Is something wrong?" His own name called him back to reality. He turned to see Baltar staring at him. He opened his mouth to reply when suddenly the world went alive with sirens and his head was suddenly full of the panicked, terrified thoughts of every human on the ship._

Red light flashed and was reflected off nearby steel surfaces as people began to scurry with a purpose. The ship shuddered violently and the Doctor was forced to grab a nearby table for support. After the shudder was over he ran to the door and looked out. It looked like the first wounded were being wheeled in. It had only been seconds.

There was a ring behind them as the phone went off amidst the madness. Baltar seized and began speaking into it rapidly. It was strange. A dreadnought class such as this ship should have wireless communication at least; it shouldn't be relying on hard lines. The ship lurched sickeningly and suddenly, throwing him to the left. A ship like this one should also have had better steering and navigation. It seemed impossible but this ship was an old model, it had to be. Too hold for war and yet here it was, holding off some unknown foe.

He was still marvelling when Baltar suddenly bellowed from behind him; "Smith!"

"Hm?" He turned to face him abruptly. The man was still on the phone but had a look of urgency.

"You said your specialisation was astrophysics and mathematics, am I to assume that that also implies space travel?"

"Certainly," he grinned at the man. He realised belatedly that the man probably though he was mad, grinning during a battle.

"Excellent." He hung up the phone and jogged out the door. When he noticed the Doctor not following he turned, "come on! We're expected on the main bridge!" he barked.

"Oh! Right!" The Doctor caught onto the sense of urgency and played along, sprinting behind him.

If he thought his journey to the medical block was confusing he hasn't even considered the journey to main deck. It involved sharp turns, lifts and an extreme ability to dodge pilots and other officers running in the opposite direction. There were some close calls but they made it fairly quickly. Humans and their rushing, it was comical really.

They emerged onto the main deck to find it a hive of activity: com links were alive, radars were screaming and the voices of pilots echoed through the room. Orders were being thrown and men and women were lurching to obey them. Why would a scientist be needed here? Baltar was speaking to a short haired officer in blue as the Doctor began to wander round. He eyes scanned the control panels, the radar (they called it Dradis?) and he saw fairly old technology. It was as he feared. This was a Battlestar on its last legs. It hobbled forward even as it fell apart.

"Smith!" He turned to see the greasy doctor calling him again, a look of impatience on his face. It appeared the commanding officers had also joined him.

The Doctor strode quickly to his side. "Hello!" he beamed at them.

They glared back. Talk about a tough crowd.

Baltar was the first to recover. "Have you ever calculated faster-than-light travel, Doctor Smith?"

Faster-than-light? He was a time traveller! They looked a FTL travel in the nursery. He nodded.

"Doctor Smith, I am Admiral Adama," and elderly looking man, easily the one in command spoke. "As you can see we are under attack and it is our job to defend the fifty thousand civilians on those craft, as you know." He took a deep breath as the ship shuddered again. "As of this point it is your job along with Doctor Baltar and Lieutenant Gaeta to calculate our FTL travel for each and every ship. You must do it as quickly as you can."

The Doctor nodded emphatically.

"Well get to it!" barked the bald man to the Admiral's left, the second in command apparently.

He turned sharply to the desk filled with maps to begin. Gaeta and Baltar were already busy arguing away, Gaeta eventually giving way to Baltar's superior mathematics. The Doctor sat back awhile to what them work, it wouldn't do to interfere too greatly. The ship shuddered again and alarms sounded. "Radiation detected in sections C through D," called a nearby coms officer.

"Cordon them off and cleanse them. Damage status?" Adama was glaring at the radar, military mind working overtime.

"Hull is at fifty percent strength! Its weakening rapidly and I don't think we'll stand another hit, sir" shouted another nearby soldier.

"How many injured?"

"We're still getting reports, sir," a female officer called, squinting at her screen. "Initial numbers report four fatalities, twenty three wounded, sir!"

Adama nodded his face grim. Something stuck the Doctor. These soldiers were clearly outgunned, one Battlestar protecting more than a dozen civilian ships was a less than ideal situation. From the feel of the room he could also tell they were running from this threat, running for their lives and being pursued relentlessly. The fact that their jump destination had to be random also indicated a sense of hopelessness; they had no idea where they were going. Humans were certainly brave, he'd give them that. They vaulted mindlessly into the darkness and yet he could still feel the undying glimmer of hope.

He glanced back down at the calculations. They weren't even a quarter of the way finished and the ship was close to destruction. There were fifty thousand lives at stake. He knew he shouldn't interfere but, by his history recollection, these ships shouldn't even be here. He was going to interfere with an interferer. How exciting!

His Time Lord mind quickly made the necessary calculations in seconds and he lurched forward, seizing the pen and paper from Baltar. While the doctor protested he began to work, his hand flew over the page as he calculated suitable distance, random direction and even compensated for the avoidance of alien races. They weren't ready for encounters yet.

He was finished in minutes. More than an hour earlier than men like Lieutenant Gaeta were even capable of. He looked to Baltar for confirmation, "I would say this course would be best. Don't you agree?"

Baltar seized the page and scanned it, he nodded. "Just what I was planning, thank you, Doctor Smith. You are indeed gifted in the realm of physics."

The Doctor smiled modestly, "not as gifted as you," he disagreed.

Gaeta, still in a state of mild awe, took the calculations and sent them to all the ships in the fleet. He turned to Adama, "we're ready, Admiral."

The Admiral placed his hands behind his back, "send orders to the CAG and get our birds out the air!" he barked.

Orders raced down phones and the retreat flares shone above the ship. There was a slight rocking as some of the ships came in a bit too 'hot' (as the crew around him were calling it). "Fire barrage!" roared Adama and the Doctor felt the shudder of the Battlestar's cannon. They were pushing the enemy away to make room for a jump.

Adama grabbed what looked like a primitive radio wired to the main radar and held it to his mouth. "All ships prepare to jump, all ships prepare to jump. On my mark: one, two, three and jump!"

The ships hit full throttle in a second and the Doctor felt his stomach wrenched backwards. In the back of his mind he could feel his TARDIS grumbling in annoyance, the old girl didn't like the 'primitive' modes of travel. As they became mere flashes of light in the universe racing toward his coordinates he felt his twin hearts flutter, one stuttering slightly. He hated unpredictable travel!

Yet what really, really, _really_ annoyed him was the fact that his glasses had just flown of his face. What made it worse was that someone had just stepped on them. The psychic touch on his mind as he left was also vaguely worrying. He sighed. This was not turning out to be a good day, century or millennia.

---

What did you think? Hope its a bit more fast paced!

Pleeeeeaaaaase review!

- D


	4. Erdicantium Angels

Yoyo! I'm back! This again wasn't beta'd but it's been hanging around my pc for awhile so I figured I'd post it. Usual disclaimers apply! Tell me what you think and everything!

**Marcus S. Lazarus:** Hey there! Thanks for the review, I know it's a minor plot point but I agree it is important. I'll explain what's going on later (as soon as the Doctor figures it out :D) with the time line. I haven't watched BSG2003 in ages (January roughly) so I'm sketchy on the details. It is supposed to be pre-Pegasus and the ending may be different (I haven't decided)! Thanks for telling me, I'll keep a better watch on my details. I wouldnt' say the Doctor is exactly 'aware' of Inner Six he just knows something isn't right, Baltar is sorta creepy...

Anywho on with the show!

----

**Chapter 4: Erdicantium Angels**

Deep within the hub of the Cylon regeneration ship a creature, known to them only as the Lost Angel stirred. He thrashed in his tank where he lay semi-submerged. Cables in his skin pulled tight and eyes opened. Around him the Cylons in human form, skin-jobs as humans called them, gathered curiously. Usually their great processor laid motionless, endlessly calculating their FTLs and dreaming new models of Cylon. This movement was strange.

Suddenly crystal blue eyes shot open and the Lost Angel struggled to sit up, hands scrabbling across the sides of the bath. His eyes were open but they weren't seeing. They couldn't be with the amount of narcotics flooding his veins. The Lost Angel was always kept dreaming, always. His mouth stretched soundlessly.

Six cautiously approached, "Is everything alright?" she asked gently. This being may be their greatest asset but he still looked like a child, a child almost a man.

His eyes swivelled to her; he was reacting to the sound rather than the presence. He said nothing.

She crept yet closer and jumped when a slippery hand shot out and seized her arm. The grip was like a vice. She knew then that he was seeing _her_. Somehow, past the drugs and the haze, he was looking at her. At her very mind.

"The main shaft is collapsing," words came from usually silent lips, a boy's tenor. "Power levels dropping. Life signs low. Tired. So tired. Vortex collapsing. Falling out the Stream. We're burning."

These words were familiar to all of them; the Lost Angel spoke of little else when he spoke at all. These words were their prophecy against the humans. The humans must die because everything was collapsing. The other Hybrids lived in awe of the Angel, he was the greatest seer of all of them.

"He comes," the Angel rasped. These words were new, lucid. Abruptly all the Numbers were rapt with attention, waiting for some new prophecy.

"Who comes?" Brother said irritably, he was the closest to an unbeliever they had.

The Angel turned to him and gazed into his soul. "The Lonely God, the Great Wanderer," enigmatic words were all the narcotics rendered him capable of.

"And who is he?" Eight inquired, coming even closer.

The Angel then examined her. There was a long pause and a smile, the first they'd even seen from him, appeared across the youthful face. "He is the Light in the Darkness, the End that is Burning. He is the Destroyer of Worlds."

The Number shared a look, the words of the arch-Hybrid sparked fear in them. "We must stop him before he destroys us," one of the Brothers stated, a stern look on his face.

Shock replaced that look as the Lost Angel laughed, the laughter was almost hysterical and utterly mad. "He is the Oncoming Storm. A Purge on the People of the Dark. His Fire is Immortal. He will not be stopped."

They all stared in shocked silence. Who could stand up to the might of the Cylon race at the height of their power?

But the Lost Angel wasn't finished, "He's like Fire and Ice and Rage. He's like the Night, and the Storm at the heart of the Sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the centre of time and he can see the turn of the universe. He-" Suddenly the Angel's faced relaxed, he abruptly fell back into the tank and spoke no more. His dreams had resumed.

There was silence. In unanimous agreement they began to ready the fleet to meet what was from then on called The Prophecy of the Fire-Storm.

-------

The Doctor looked up from inside Baltar's lab, he'd suddenly felt part of something profound. Something really,_ really_ important. Oh well, it had passed. He returned to twisting wires and fixing communications links. The minute they learned of his mechanical skill, not all of it mind you, which he passed off as part of his physics specialisation they put him to work on repairs. He was also due soon at the medical section to help with the newest patients.

If the last few hours they'd jumped another four times with an almost paranoid back glance. These people were really on the run and, finally, he knew why. Without saying anything and by listening, a skill taught to him by none other than Martha Jones, he'd learned that these humans had fled their planet, Caprica, because it had basically become a nuclear wasteland due to the attacks of the Cylons. The Cylons were sort of like Cybermen but had established as a completely separate race. They didn't convert humans, they weren't even part human. They simply sought to kill them.

Interestingly there were Cylons that also looked like humans with skin, blood and brains. It was because of them that Baltar built the scanner – they were almost impossible to detect. He'd have to be very, very careful. No medical check-ups for example. Like the one he was scheduled for in two hours. He'd have to make an excuse.

He'd also been quizzed about how quickly he'd been able to come up with those calculations but in the after-battle confusion he'd been all but forgotten. He looked around to find he was alone. It was time to check on the TARDIS. He wouldn't want her found after all. Not by a race as paranoid as this one.

He sauntered vaguely down to the hangar deck once more, dodging personnel as always. He arrived in a long hallway and noticed there were a lot of people in particular. They weren't hurrying to get anywhere. They were staring at the thousands of pictures adorning the walls. There were pictures of children, men and women. All smiling and carefree. There were even soldiers posted up and squeezed into all space available. The lighting was low and there were candles dotted around.

From the faces of the faces of those around him he realised that this was like a graveyard without a graves – a place from remembering their dead. He reached out to touch the wall and felt the brush of residual grief against his mind. He starred at the pictures and soon he wasn't seeing humans, he was seeing a burning fire long, long ago.

"You must be Doctor Smith," a voice called him back to the present and he turned to see a woman in the attire that designated a pilot. The stars on her shoulder indicated she had status. She was blond, slightly small and grinning.

He grinned back, "Oh! Hello there! Yes, I'm the Doctor! I just transferred in."

"I'm Kara Thrace, Viper pilot. Folks say you were the one who got us out of the last frack up, they say you're almost as smart as Baltar," she had her hands on her hips. Though the movement was aggressive he could tell she was merely friendly.

"You could say that," he replied wryly and turned his gaze back to the wall.

"That's good, I like anyone smarter than that jumped up nerd." She followed his gaze, "who'd you lose?"

He turned sharply, "excuse me?"

She sighed and the smile slipped from her features. "When Caprica burned we all lost someone, I lost my mother. Even though we didn't get along I...never mind." She looked deep into his eyes, "you're staring at the wall like it has all the answers. So. Who'd you lose?"

He laughed shortly, "I guess it is rather obvious," he mused. He straightened and turned away slightly, the pain was still so fresh after all that time. It was probably because these people were almost like himself, they had lost everything. Yet at least they still had fifty thousand people. He only had one other and he was a madman. "I lost everything," he said tightly.

Thrace was quiet for a moment, "how old were they?"

He looked at her. How could she know he'd once had children? "Not old enough."

"I'm sorry," he could hear the pity. He didn't need it. People shouldn't pity murderers.

"Don't be, it's all in the past now." There was an awkward silence. He cleared his throat, "can you show me to the hangar deck? I'm afraid I am completely lost and I think I've lost a possession down there," he continued, hiding the pain with a smile.

She smiled back, "sure. I practically live down there," she laughed. "Follow me."

So off they went wandering down the hallways and maze like doors. Eventually they emerged onto the enormous flat platform covered in Vipers. Mechanics ran to and fro in heated conversations with pilots. Like a light going on the sense of urgency was back.

"I hear you're quite the mechanic," Kara attempted to start conversation again.

"Well, I am brilliant after all. Not as brilliant as some of course but, not to blow my own trumpet, I am pretty amazing," the Doctor fell back into the familiar pattern of babbling. He kept an eye on the mechanics, some of which were clearly new from converted citizens. "You've got that upside down," he commented absentmindedly to a nearby man fitting a power conduit. The man noted, blushed and slowly turned it over.

"I thought you specialised in FTL travel, how do you know how to repair Vipers?"

"Vipers are part of travelling aren't they? I'm a doctor in pretty much everything anyway," he carried on grinning.

They were too busy talking that they didn't notice a rattling over head. A clanking getting closer and closer. It was crawling far above them in the very air vents. It watched and watched and watched. While it watched it waited, creeping closer. It whirred its cogs in excitement. The time had finally come! It crept forward on metal limbs, stalking and watching. Every now and again it sparked. It was broken after all.

While the Doctor was busy babbling about bananas he suddenly got the feeling of being watched and paused mid sentence. "Doctor?" Kara asked, wondering why he had frozen. "What's wrong?"

He opened his mouth to ask when suddenly there was an almighty rattle and bang from above, it shook the whole air vent.

"Must be a loose panel" a nearby mechanic called as they all turned to look, squinting at the ceiling.

The Doctor snorted disbelievingly, "a loose panel that can walk? Listen!" The rattle stuttered, trying to quiet itself. "Look there! It's trying to hide from us. Clearly some level of sentience."

The Doctor strode forward, following the sound while everyone gazed in mild shock. He pulled the Sonic Screwdriver from inside his jacket and as it flashed he read the scan of the area with curiosity. "Levels of erdicantium, hmm" he muttered.

"What is _that_?" Kara was getting creeped out, it was probably the lack of sleep.

"Erdicantium? It's on ore found on the planet Erdisix, very durable and actually more of an organism than anything. It's not unusual for creatures to actually be constructed of it." The Doctor held the screwdriver aloft, scanning still. "Now where are you?"

Following the loud whistling-buzz he came to a section of vent. Everyone jumped as the banging sounded again. "You're small," he said with curiosity, "simple too. I wonder," he pushed another button and abruptly the panel opened and something tumbled out and down. The Doctor held out his arms to catch whatever fell and found his arms full of clockwork and metal plates. The creature squirmed and thrashed, highly confused. From the fraying of wires he could see in the confusion he realised the poor thing was broken, injured and in pain.

"There, there" he murmured, stroking mechanical ears and setting the creature down. Slowly it stopped and curled in his arms purring. Eyes made of blue bulbs looked up at him and he felt a small mental probe as the machine-creature scanned him.

"Greetings, Master," a mechanical voice issued from just below the jaw of the creature through a speaker.

His head snapped up as he heard the locking of guns. His eyes met those of Kara Thrace who also had a gun trained on him and the creature. "What the frack is that thing?" she growled.

"Why, it's a cat of course," he replied with a smile as the small creature purred happily. In his mind he felt that TARDIS smile happily. What had she got him into now?

----

Well? What did you think?

Please review and feed my attention-seeking ways! Pleeeeease?

Love ya all!

- D


	5. Cylon

Hey ho! I'm back! Thanks to everyone that reviewed! I love you all! Well here we are again at the newest instalment. Hope it's to your liking, a bit short but thats only because I had to dice some future chapters so the story made more sense....or that's what I'm telling myself.

Please review! Please! It gets me through work :D

Anywho! Allons-y!

------

"_Greetings, Master," a mechanical voice issued from just below the jaw of the creature through a speaker. _

_His head snapped up as he heard the locking of guns. His eyes met those of Kara Thrace who also had a gun trained on him and the creature. "What the frack is that thing?" she growled._

"_Why, it's a cat of course," he replied with a smile as the small creature purred happily. In his mind he felt that TARDIS smile happily. What had she got him into now?_

**Chapter Five: Cylon **_  
_

There was complete silence. He could almost state the fear. The soldiers looked around uneasily before turning to Thrace for instruction. She glared at him for just a bit longer before bellowing "Where's Apollo?" angrily to the nearest soldier.

He snapped to attention, "The CAG is in the strategy room, sir!"

She mused for a moment, "Bring him to the brig. Tell him we've got an intruder. Notify the Colonel and the Admiral." She slowly walked up to the Doctor and straightened to look him in the eye. "It's always the new guys," she muttered shaking her leg. "Doctor John Smith you are under arrest on suspicion of being a Cylon spy, you will be escorted to the holding cells immediately."

"Ah, I see. Well. Allons-y!" he began to move forward before looking back at the soldiers expectantly. Clearly most people here didn't take arrest as well as he did. "What?"

"'Allons-y?'" asked Grunt Number One.

"It means 'let's go' in French and such," the Doctor replied nonplussed.

"Oh," they hurried to join him.

As the soldiers moved up to his side to escort him he realised that there must be very little judicial process here. Well at least he wasn't offered one. Docilely he followed, still smiling. The smile was but a mask and in the back of his mind he felt the worry of his ship. "Oh," he muttered darkly, "now you're concerned!"

"What was that?" Thrace barked from where she marched up front.

"Nothing, Kara!" he beamed, "Just musing on my current predicament."

"Don't use my first name, freak."

"My apologies."

The holding cells were dank and dusty. Well holding cells are dank and dusty the universe over, they aren't exactly designed for comfort. It contained a small metal bed, a toilet and was surrounded on all sides by bars. He kept frowned as they locked him in and sat on the bed. Carefully he deposited the creature next to him. He cocked his head as he studied it, it mimicked him.

"Oooo," he hummed, "low level telepathic field. Whoever built you s'got some skills." He pulled out his screwdriver and applied it to the panels across the small cat-machine's face. They lifted as they were clearly designed to and he was allowed a closer look at the creature's brain. "You are beautiful!" he exclaimed. "I mean seriously, seriously beautiful!"

Under the panels whirred a perfect symphony of cogs, pistons and processors. Steam punk met hyper technology. Simplistic but cleverly built. He pocked some white membrane and the cat flinched. "No is it? Yes it is!" he exclaimed amazed. "Actual synthetic nerves and what looks like a cardiovascular system. You're actually alive."

He rubbed his chin and stood back slightly, still staring at the creature. The creature closed its panels and stared right back. It was for all intents and purposes a cat. A mechanical cat that was based on the real thing. From pistons to hydraulics to shape to movement to mannerism. Almost like K9 in intelligence however.

He'd completely forgotten he was under arrest until a group of people walked into the room. He recognised Thrace, Tigh (the colonel) and Adama from the bridge but there were two new individuals. A woman, fifties and wise. He sensed prejudice but fairness from her. There was also another young officer, a pilot. From the impression of the soldiers he realised this was their CAG, or flight coordinator-thing.

"Hello! I'm the Doctor!" he smiled at them. They didn't smile back. He frowned.

The woman stepped forward; "I'm Laura Roslin, President of the Colonial fleet."

He nodded, "I'm the Doctor," he repeated.

"It has come to our attention that you have come into contact with a mechanical weapon," here she gestured to the cat on his bed, "and your behaviour has indicated you are a Cylon. Are you a Cylon insurgent?" The words were hard and meant to scare. But he'd faced much scarier people than her.

He laughed, "that? A weapon?" He pointed to the cat disbelievingly. "It's a companion creature! Not purely mechanical but with flesh and brain of its own. It's someone's pet!"

"He could be lying," Thrace said quietly.

"Sure, I would lie about technology way too advanced for this galaxy! You shouldn't be encountering creatures like this for at least four hundred years. So what's it doing all the way out here?" he turned back to it, musing.

"Answer the question!" This was from Colonel Tigh.

He looked the man in the eye and walked slowly to the bars. Tigh didn't know what came over him but he began to back away, something about this man was deadly. Something was wrong. "I am no Cylon, Saul Tigh."

"Doctor Baltar," Roslin called and the man shuffled in with the very scanner that the Doctor had helped him build. "You promise this scanner can detect a Cylon?"

"All tests on the Cylon converts on board have been positive," he confirmed smugly.

Adama nodded, "proceed."

The Doctor happily held out his arms and let the rudimentary DNA scanner get a good look at him. Time Lord children built better things after all. There was a crackling as it focused upon him and dissected his strands. It started an awful beeping, strangled and horrific. Red lights also flashed. "I take it that's bad?" he asked.

They ignored him, "Tests negative, he's not carrying human DNA. He's a Cylon," Doctor Baltar told them as he examined the readings. Guns shot up and locked on him.

The Doctor sighed. "How does that make me a Cylon?" he asked tiredly.

They blinked, "Don't try and hide!" Seemed like Tigh was taking centre stage, "the results prove you're a machine, not human no matter how you appear."

"Can I at least have a chance to prove my innocence?" The Doctor looked around smiling benignly.

Roslin nodded slowly.

"Brilliant!" He then began to talk double pace, "Baltar, you designed that scanner to pick up DNA and compare it to human averages and, if different, sound an alarm, yes? Well can you be a bit more specific? Recalibrate it and reverse it to register only Cylon DNA, you do have the data banks for that don't you?" When Baltar nodded he continued, "do that and then scan me."

There was silence. Adama turned to the scientist, "can you do that?"

"I believe so," Baltar murmured before setting to work. It took a few very tense minutes and the summoning of Sharon – the local convert Cylon. He scanned her with the new data and lo and behold the lights flashed green and registered normal. When he scanned the humans present the world lit with angry lights again.

They looked to him curiously. Why would a Cylon willingly condemn itself? All the Doctor did was keep smiling and run a hand through his very messy hair.

Tentatively Baltar scanned the Doctor again, the air filled with alarms from the scanner. There was a moment of silence while Baltar repeated the three times but always got the same result. The Doctor was not a Cylon. "It must be broken," reasoned Roslin.

"It can't be," Baltar argued exasperated.

"But he helped you build it," Kara interjected, jabbing a thumb at the Doctor, "maybe he rigged it."

"He built it from my instructions, he couldn't have. I took it apart and checked it." Baltar sighed and looked at the floor, a look of panic crossed his face, "when all other routes are proved illogical and only one remains than that one must be the truth, no matter how impossible." His head snapped up, "you're not human," he accused shocked.

All eyes in the room turned to the Doctor who merely rocked on his heels and grinned.

"What are you?" Roslin asked, concern in her eyes. The other officers remained silent.

"I'm the Doctor," he replied holding out a hand to shake through the bars.

---

Well so much for hiding, as the lovely reviewer **naga** said, just a matter of time!

So what did you think? Drop me a line and let me know!

- D


	6. Three or Four Galaxies

Hey! I'm back and quite early too! Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad everyone liked my little robocat! I've even drawn him (it took me a long time to do all the cogs) and I'll post a link to the deviantart when I actually get around to scanning it. My scanner, Jim, is currently dead. God rest him.

And fear not my friends my beloved little car does get a lot more screen time :D!

Anywho, review, read and love! Please support my fragile confidence!

Enjoy!

----

_His head snapped up, "you're not human," he accused shocked._

_All eyes in the room turned to the Doctor who merely rocked on his heels and grinned. _

"_What are you?" Roslin asked, concern in her eyes. The other officers remained silent._

"_I'm the Doctor," he replied holding out a hand to shake through the bars._

**Chapter Six: Three or Four Galaxies  
**

"And what exactly does that mean?" Lee Adama inquired moving slightly closer to the bars.

"What kind of question's that?" Thrace grumbled, "A doctor's a doctor after all. He's lying to us."

"The way he says it I don't think it's just that," Lee paused and thought, "I think it's actually your name isn't it?"

The Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "it is the one I prefer."

"If you aren't a human and you aren't a cylon, what are you?" Roslin looked positively sick.

"Well I don't suppose there's any harm in telling you, I mean something's already distorting this place and your species. I would say I'm your first alien contact. My race comes from way away from here, three or four galaxies that way in fact," he told them, pointing east.

"Three or four _galaxies_, you can cross entire galaxies?" Doctor Baltar looked like he was having an apoplexy.

"Relatively easily, that's how I got here actually. Just sorta ran into you," the Doctor scratched the back of his head. He was followed by nervous silence.

"I always thought aliens would look..." Thrace started but then cut herself off.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and grinned, "What? Green? Scaly? Slimey?" he laughed. "Human beings and your imaginations," he snorted.

"How are you different then, how do we know you're not lying?" Thrace pressed.

"Oh one or two things really. My brain is a different shape to yours and I have two hearts," he replied simply, wandering back and forth slightly.

"Two hearts?" this was from Rolsin.

"Yes, left and right," he tapped his chest to indicate them. "I never could understand how you humans got by on just one! It would drive me barmy, well it has driven me barmy! I've don't it a few times. Not pleasant! Really hard to breathe you know? Especially when you're running. I'm always running. It's good for you. Well I guess these things happen-"

"Wait a minute," everyone turned to Baltar as he interrupted. "What did you mean by your brain is different shape?"

"Oh you know. The usual. My cortexes are in a different place, I have extra bits. That sort of thing. That's not very helpful is it?" He paused in his pacing and looked at the ground thoughtfully. "Doctor Baltar, you told me you're the most intelligent man in this fleet and, from your mathematical skills, I gauge that's true. Yet you struggle so much to calculate a simple light speed jump. You may be the smartest man in this fleet but I'm one of the smartest creatures in the universe. Light speed jumps were what our children worked on as homework in the nursery." His head snapped up to look at them. His grin returned in full force, "I'm just that brilliant."

"You can't be," Baltar stuttered, clearly not used to being with someone more intelligent than him. "The brain just wouldn't function!"

"Well clearly it does," the Doctor grinned.

There was another awkward silence. "Oh come on!" The Doctor waved at them, "I know you human beings. You're curious to a fault. You've got more questions, I can tell! Ask away!" He encouraged them with a smile.

"You said 'creatures'," Admiral Adama said quietly, "what exactly is out there?"

"Thousands of millions of races all making ends meet," the Doctor replied easily. "Thousands of cultures and religions all living together. Amazing really."

"Why haven't we found them?" the Admiral pressed.

"Because you're so noisy."

Rolsin leaned forward, "excuse me?" she asked curtly.

The Doctor chuckled, "you're constantly sending comms messages, constantly fighting and you're using nuclear weaponry. To be honest nuclear doesn't matter to a lot of races these days but many do tend to want to stay away. They don't want to involve themselves in your war and can you blame them?" He put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels again, "I also may have made sure you avoided a couple of planets in the last jump."

Adama raised an eyebrow.

"You aren't ready," the Doctor elaborated. Tigh spluttered but the Doctor held up a hand. "You're paranoid to the point of brutal torture with a race you _know_. I wasn't ready to take the chance on a race you didn't."

Awkward silences seemed to very fashionable these days.

"How do we know you aren't just going to call down your people and invade us, hm?" Tigh grumbled angrily.

"There's that paranoia," the Doctor said grinning. "Not to worry, I'm considered a bit 'rough' for my race and I don't even carry a gun! You've nothing to fear from us." He knew they wouldn't believe him yet but it didn't hurt to try. "I don't like people with guns," he muttered under his breath, glaring at the guards.

"You said it was beautiful," everyone turned to look at Thrace.

"Pardon?" the Doctor stated, leaning forward.

Thrace pointed to the machine idly curled up on the bed, the cat was giving the appearance of sleeping. "You called it beautiful and said it was alive."

The Doctor was confused, "well it is."

"What is it?"

"'It' is actually a 'he' by the looks and he's a companion creature, as I said. Cytronian I'd say, he's got his own organic nervous system, brain, blood system and spinal column. He's a living machine, partially clockwork. The whole build is really rather spectacular. Gorgeous in fact! He was born, in his own way, and was probably a very dear friend to someone. I wonder who-"

"It's a machine, it can't be alive," Roslin interrupted as if it were fact. Almost like an automated response.

"And I suppose you know all the universe's forms of life, Madam President?" the Doctor raised his eyebrow once more.

"It can't be alive," Roslin repeated.

"You're like a bad record. Oh! That was rude wasn't it? Sorry! I tend to do that," the Doctor almost blushed. "Why can't it be alive?"

"It just can't," confirmed Lee Adama with a nod.

"Aaah, I see," realisation dawned in his eyes. "You don't want it to be alive because you don't want to admit the cylons could be alive too." The silence that met his ears confirmed this. "You don't want to face your guilt, your _shame_."

"You don't know what the frack you're talking about!" barked Tigh.

"Your whole planet is gone, you're the last of your race and you're making a desperate run for the founding colony. You're low on fuel, food and staff. You're running from an enemy that only you can claim responsibility for. There are three original stories in the universe – was it Shakespeare who said that? – and this certainly isn't one of them." The Doctor sighed, "Humans do get in a lot of trouble. I'm being rude again aren't I?"

After a long moment Lee Adama finally spoke, "So according to you that thing-" he pointed to the cat, "is an alien and isn't supposed to be here?" The Doctor nodded. "So, what is it doing here?"

"That's also what I'm a tad curious about," the Doctor mused. "The poor thing couldn't have got here by himself, he must have been brought." He snapped his fingers, "of course!"

"Of course?" the humans were now utterly in his thrall and looking curiously at each other.

"Cytronians always react to voice commands; all we need to do is ask it!" He bent down and scooped up the small creature, ticking his tummy slightly. "Hello there, what's your name?" he asked.

"Claptrap. Claptrap," the little robotic voice replied.

"Okay then, Claptrap. Why are you here?" The cat pulled out of the Doctor's arms and moved to lay across his shoulders.

"There was an accident, the ship lost control," he replied, purring.

"And you crashed here?"

"Negative." That caused everyone to pay very close attention.

"Then why are you here, Claptrap?"

"For the mission, for the mission," the little creature leapt to the floor and curled his tail about his feet.

"The mission? What is the mission?" The Doctor kneeled to look at the creature.

"Affirmative. Mission parameters are to find the keeper," Claptrap explained.

"Who is 'the keeper'? What is 'the keeper'?"

Abruptly the Cytronian began thrashing and sparking, "system damage, system damage" repeated over and over in a loud monotone. The Doctor scooped the creature up once more and set his screwdriver to its stomach. After a short moment it stopped and fell still.

"Is it dead?"

The Doctor looked up at Kara Thrace and smiled, "no. He's sleeping. I should have realised he was so damaged! Poor thing can barely add two and two let alone recite complicated subroutines, it's so confused!"

He looked up the high command of Battlestar Galactica as Roslin posed an important question, "you never did say why you're here."

"Oh, my ship and I had an argument as we passed you and she insisted we board," the Doctor looked around. "Could you let me out of here now we've established I'm not going to hurt anyone? I'm really quite the pacifist."

They looked to the Admiral who in turn looked thoughtful.

It was Thrace who spoke in his defence; "if we trust a Cylon," she jerking her thumb at Sharon, "we can trust him."

"One condition," he said at last.

"You help us in our flight from the Cylons."

The Doctor drew breathe through his teeth and hissed, "Don't know if I'm allowed to do that...there are rules after all."

"Rules?" Adama raised his eyebrow.

"My people have rules about interference, how about I just make sure we don't encounter anything too nasty?"

Adama nodded in agreement slowly, cautiously.

"What did you mean 'founding colony'?" The Doctor looked up at Thrace and suddenly got very shifty. "What did you mean running back? Running back where?"

"Well surely you already know."

"Where?" This time it was Tigh that pressed.

"Well Earth obviously," the Doctor replied with absolutely no idea how much his words would inspire the fragile human beings before him. "That is where you're from after all."

----

So so so? He's really in it now! What did you guys think?

Please R&R!

- D


	7. Too Human

Well here we are again! Thanks for all the reviews and support! It actually means a lot to me, it really really does!

**Marcus S. Lazarus**: Well, I can't really answer some of your questions without giving the plot away. The Cytronian is totally necessary! I know the AUing I'm doing is a bit large but I wasn't satisfied with the ending of BSG2003, to many unanswered questions and all that so I'm manipulating it to fit my crossover. It is personal preference tho, I may rewrite it at some point to incorporate that I guess. Funny you should mention nibbles, there is a comment in one of the upcoming chapters about nibbles and their necessity to every day life. I am glad you like it so far though!

And a massive thanks to everyone that loves my little cat! I love him too! You'll see a lot more of him and I am going to scan him one day. Unfortunately he recently had an accident with a can of coke so the drawing is a bit smudged....

BUT NEVER MIND!

Anywho, same as always, please review and tell me what you think!

Allons-y!

-----

"_What did you mean 'founding colony'?" The Doctor looked up at Thrace and suddenly got very shifty. "What did you mean running back? Running back where?"_

"_Well surely you already know."_

"_Where?" This time it was Tigh that pressed._

"_Well Earth obviously," the Doctor replied with absolutely no idea how much his words would inspire the fragile human beings before him. "That is where you're from after all."_

**Chapter Seven: Too Human  
**

The Doctor looked around and could instantly tell he shouldn't have said anything. Nothing at all. He was met with mild shock. "You've been to Earth?" Roslin said urgently.

"Yes, I have," he replied rubbing a hand across his eyes.

"Do you know where it is?" Thrace was picking up the urgency vibe it seemed.

The Doctor cocked his head, considering. "Yes, I do."

The room was suddenly alive with questions from all sides. The types he wasn't so fond of, where, when, how and so on. The din became intolerable until Adama held up his hand, slowly everyone fell silent. "Will you take us there?" he asked in his gravelly voice.

"No." Amazing how such a small word can inspire such hatred. Tight drew breath to shout but the Doctor beat him to it. "Remember what I said about interference? I'm part of events now as much as I can be without damaging things, you need to find them on your own." He looked at his feet, "I'd like to help you, I really would, but I _can't._ There's too much at stake."

"What can you do then?" growled Tigh.

"I can find out why you have a Cytronian on your ship and why you're all the way out here ahead of schedule. I want to know why. It's like you're being manipulated."

"I think we would know if we were being manipulated," Lee Adama scoffed.

"And therein lies the brilliance of it don't you think?" The Doctor ran a hand through his hair which was standing up in arrogant spikes, "I'll help out best I can with FTL jumps and whatnot, how's that? Just let me putter about and do what I have to do?"

He could see before they even said anything that they were going to agree. "Why do we trust you?" He looked to Kara Thrace and raised an eyebrow. "We shouldn't trust you," she explained, "and yet we do."

"I'm just one of those people I guess," he shrugged. "So, do we have a deal?"

---

He was once more in Baltar's lab with the Cytronian spread out in front of him on the lab table, its mechanical 'guts' spread in front of him. He shone his screwdriver inside and squinted through his glasses humming quietly to himself. "You've had some cowboys in here," he murmured as tinkered.

"Affirmative," Claptrap replied, his tail twitching slightly. He wasn't bothered at the strange man fiddling with his insides.

"Why on earth do you have a reverse sprocket in here?" The Doctor exclaimed as he pulled the part loose and examined it. "Better yet, why is put right next to your hydracog system? That's bad design that is. They'd over heat each other."

He leaned back and scratched his neck thoughtfully as put the part in his breast pocket. "Fixing you is going to be harder than I thought. Who fixed you in the first place?"

"The master did but he did not have the parts," the little robot confirmed.

"Ah, the infamous parts once more. From what I can see you're lucky to function at all," the Doctor began reattaching power conduits to the nervous system and bioconverters.

"Affirmative" Claptrap agreed.

"But why are you even here?" he queried, "I've reconstructed most of the neural cortex so you should be able to answer now."

"Hard drive has been damaged, diagnostic reports eighty six percent of routines and commands in failure," Claptrap cocked his head.

"How convenient. So you're just running on the basics," the Doctor tutted as he worked and resealed the creature's chest cavity. He ran a hand over it, double checking his work. "Alright, up you get and let's take a look at you."

Claptrap obligingly stood up and the Doctor scanned him quickly. Fluid in his vascular was low but, other than that, Claptrap may as well be good as new. "How are your power cells?" he asked.

"Power is at eleven percent capacity," the cat mimed licking its tail.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, "then go on standby and recharge mode," he said tiredly.

The little head jerked up, "my apologies, master!" The cat curled, powered down and a whirring indicated the charging process.

The swishing behind him indicated that someone had opened the doors behind him, he turned to see Kara Thrace. He took off his glasses and smiled, "Kara Thrace," he greeted warmly, "what can I do for you?"

"It's been twenty three hours," she stated simply.

"Since what?" he asked mildly confused.

"Since you were signed on board," she told him exasperatedly.

"Oh! Well, actually it's been twenty three hours, twenty four minutes and seventeen seconds but who's counting?" he began putting cogs back into his pockets, clearing the table.

"How do you know that?" she asked coming closer.

"Oh I notice time differently to you that's all," he said off hand. "You really need to get a better lab, I mean this one is poorly laid out and half of it doesn't work!" he snorted.

"Baltar says that same thing," she smiled.

"I don't know how he copes!" The Doctor indicated for her to hold a stack of objects so he could get at a tiny diode underneath them. "Why is twenty three hours, twenty five minutes and fourteen seconds important anyway?"

"Well," she continued, handing the items back to him, "I wondered if you'd eaten since you've been here."

He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully, "I don't think so," he shrugged and went back to puttering.

She sighed in annoyance, "would you like to?"

"To what?" he was beginning to look through a nearby pile of papers.

"Eat, you idiot!" The shout definitely got his attention.

"Oh! Right! Yes! That you be nice actually, I could go longer but I suppose it is proper to be sociable. Rose was always talking about how I tend forget that, Donna too actually. I-" he suddenly cut off and his expression seemed to darken. But when he turned back to look at her there was that warm smile, although it was a little thinner than before. "Lead the way!"

"Right," she replied, eyeing him a little. "It's this way," she led him out the lab and down a corridor towards a lift. "Hey," she said after a moment, "have you even slept?"

"Oh, I don't need to yet." His hands were in his pockets looking for something.

"Don't need to?" she looked at him incredulous.

"I forget you humans need at least four hours, I only need two. Seems such a waste to me, all that time you could be doing something and you snooze it away," he told her laughing.

"Two hours a day," Kara was dazed slightly; it would be nice if she could get by on that,

"No, no, no. Two hours a week." He said it as if it were completely unremarkable.

She stopped and stared at him.

"What?" he asked, stopping to look back and her. She smacked him round the back of the head and continued on at a brisk place. "OW! What did I do?" he grumbled, striding after her.

He was still complaining when they arrived at the mess hall five minutes later. It was a clean example of soldier's barracks. Square surfaces and trays. Very dull, very grey, very human. He scowled at the sight that most of the soldiers carried guns. There was silence as he entered. "Don't pay attention to them," Thrace murmured, elbowing him into the food queue.

Once they were seating she watched as he marvelled at the spork in his hand. "A spoon, a fork and a knife! Humans may not been as clever as us or the Eternals but you sure are practical!" He began to eat slowly, with a grimace, but happily. He was aware of all the eyes of the room on him.

"So you're an alien," that was more of a statement than a question. He glanced up to see a young pilot talking to him, stripped down to his white vest. The tone was mocking.

"That'd be me," he agreed with an odd smile.

"You know, I expected aliens to be green," he laughed, ridicule it seemed. The Doctor narrowed his eyes, even all this way across space humans hadn't changed. Distrustful as ever. "How'd you get here? On your spaceship?"

"Cool it, Hotdog!" barked Thrace angrily.

"What? I'm saying what everyone's thinking!" the pilot retorted coming to his feet, relaxed stance gone. "This is just another Cylon plot and, as usual, command is falling for it!"

"That's for command to decide," Thrace replied cooly, anger fighting its way onto her face.

"Command is fracking blind! Aliens don't exist, the gods created us and only us!" the man stepped closer, fists balled up.

"Well obviously they didn't because there he is," she pointed to the Doctor who was watching with his feet up against a table. "I don't like it any more than you do, Hotdog, but I can't just ignore the facts. Much as I'm famous for it."

The man stepped closer, threateningly. The Doctor almost stood if not what Thrace did next. She wrapped a hand around his jersey and jerked him forward till they were nose to nose, "You sure you wanna do this, tough guy?" she growled.

The man, 'Hotdog', looked to the side. She shook him warningly. "Forgive my disrespect, sir," he grumbled eventually.

"It's not me you should be saying sorry to is it?"

Hotdog turned to the Doctor who'd returned to inspecting the spork. "Sorry," he muttered grudgingly.

Realising he was being spoken to the Doctor glanced back up, "oh don't worry. Sticks and stones and all that. You aren't the first to be just a little bit sceptical. First to be so aggressive though." He put the spork down on the table and pushed his tray to the middle, he began looking through his pockets again, "and, yes I did, by the way," he continued after a moment.

"Yes what?" Thrace inquired, sitting back down. Hotdog mimicked her.

"I did get here on my spaceship, though I doubt she'd like being called that," he looked the young male pilot in the eye across two tables.

He snorted, "where'd you park it then?"

"In your hangar." Everyone starred open mouthed for a second. "Well not exactly in the hangar as such, more like off to the side and out the way. Didn't want to cause a hubbub. Hubbub! There's a good word. Not at all like 'exactamundo'. I hate that word, disgusting the way it rolls of the tongue don't you think?" He returned again to his pockets.

"How haven't we seen it?" Thrace asked while the others recovered from the concept of an alien ship in the hangar right next to their vipers.

"Oh she's very good at that. You wouldn't notice her, not really, unless I showed her to you. She used to be better at it but I never did get around to repairing that circuit," he scratched his hair again.

"I'm sure we'd notice a huge spaceship," a pilot across the room choked.

"Sure you would, but she's not a 'huge spaceship'," the Doctor grinned before returning to his pockets.

"What are you looking for? You've been doing that for ages," Thrace asked, exasperated once more. She had a feeling this was common around this very strange man.

"My keys of course! Can't rightly remember what I did with the things. I'm sure they were in here but that's the trouble with these pockets." He produced a black rubber duck, a weird remote and what looked like a toffee sweet. He hummed thoughtfully.

"The keys to your spaceship?" Thrace began to laugh.

"Why yes, don't laugh! If I lose them I'll be stuck like you, no offense," he continued his search.

She laughed harder and the other pilots smiled, "you know, for an alien, you're more human than I'd expected." There was that weird trust again. This man felt safe, he exuded a whole aura of it and it lulled her. Lulled everyone around her.

He froze and a slow smile spread across his face, "yes, my people said that too."

----

So what did you think? I was aiming for a K9-like response out of Claptrap....hmm

All comments welcome! See you on the flipside!

- D


	8. Bigger on the Inside

Hello! Back again! Not much to say here really, Just thought I'd say hi and thanks for the support!

Hope everyone's enjoying everything so far and don't forget to review!

Allons-y!

----

_She laughed harder and the other pilots smiled, "you know, for an alien, you're more human than I'd expected." There was that weird trust again. This man felt safe, he exuded a whole aura of it and it lulled her. Lulled everyone around her. _

_He froze and a slow smile spread across his face, "yes, my people said that too."_

**Chapter: Bigger on the Inside**

"What're they like? Your people?" a nearby female pilot pressed.

The Doctor looked thoughtful, "well some people thought us pompous but, so far as to say, they're quite intelligent. Some much cleverer than myself and I am brilliant. You can say 'cleverer' right?"

"What do you do, your kind I mean." The questions continued.

"Well, we're a bit like you I guess. All the arrogance we exude is because we're very, very good. Mostly we travelled between worlds, realities, space. We were advisors. Dusty and old though," he chuckled.

The Doctor didn't like talking of Gallifrey, it still hurt after all this time. Almost like the wound left behind by leaving Rose and Donna and Martha and, well, everyone he'd ever left. It would hurt when he left here too. Luckily Claptrap chose that moment to turn up. Gasps announced his arrival as well as the quiet clack-clack of his metal paws. Now fully repaired he moved like a natural cat and, gracefully, he sprang onto the table next to the Doctor's hands.

The Doctor smiled as he saw what the small creature carried, "thank you," he smiled taking his keys back. "I thought I'd lost those, where did you find them?"

That cat mimed licking its paws, "you left them in cranium translocator, master."

"Ah! That explains a lot. I was using them to bridge a small gap for the jump spark. Should've taken them out...How's the body, any kinks? Bent barnoodles? Sputtkles in line?" He leaned forward to squint. This creature would never cease to fascinate him.

"All is well, master," Claptrap confirmed.

"If you've never seen it before why does it call you 'master'?" Thrace asked curiously.

"Oh, that's simple. Claptrap has a low level telepathic field built into his central cortex, it picks up beings of a similar calibration nearby and automatically recognises them. It makes sure that he stays with the right people. I'm his default because I similar enough to his old master to fit. I'm the substitute." The Doctor began tinkering with the rubber duck on the table absent-mindedly.

"That's a lot of long words," growled Hotdog, still a little hostile. "What does 'similar calibration' mean exactly?"

"Oh, races with similar fields. Any telepathic race will do actually. I'm just the first he found," the Doctor replied, returning items to his pockets.

"You're telepathic? As in hearing thoughts telepathic?" The mess hall went very silent.

"Well, my entire species contains at least one type of telepathy. Mine happens to thoughts and memories," the Doctor yawned, making an itinerary in his head of things to do.

"So you can hear us?" Some of them were visibly backing away.

"Oh stop that. As if distance would help. Actually I _could _hear you but I think that's rather invasive don't you? I don't make a habit of snooping. It's not that unusual actually, about three in ten humans are born with low level psychic abilities." He stood up suddenly and dusted off his coat, the eyes of the mess hall followed him. "Oh come on, I'm not that scary," he chuckled. "Now, if I may be excused."

He turned and began to walk away briskly, "wait," Thrace called after him. "Where're you going?"

"To my ship," he said simply. "I have some tests to run." Then he was gone.

With a quick backward glance at the mess hall Thrace shot after him. "Are you really going to your ship?" she asked as she walked swiftly beside him, Claptrap bounding to catch them up.

"Yes, I haven't been in since arriving and there are some things to do, like I said," he turned the corner quickly. A Time Lord only needed to be shown the way once after all.

"Can I see it?" Kara was excited; it was evident in her voice.

He stopped suddenly in the hallway to think, obstructing almost everyone around him. He smiled down at her, "if you like," he re plied easily before beginning to walk again. With a whoop she followed him.

She followed him to the hangar deck like a puppy. When they got there it was evident word had spread for many of the crew members were now giving him a wide birth. He sighed before pasting a smile across his face, best be welcoming after all. He took Thrace to the cupboard on the far side where he parked the TARDIS. Or rather where the TARDIS parked him. He threw open the door and slipped inside, pulling his keys out his pocket as he did so.

Thrace stopped as she saw the blue box, the Doctor began fumbling with his keys. "Is that it?" she asked incredulously.

He looked up, "What do you mean by that?" he asked offended.

"Well it's just an old box isn't it? I was expecting something more, well I don't know. More alien I guess," she stopped as he glared at her.

"The TARDIS has a chameleon system fitted," he informed her, "it changes shape to blend into its surrounding. Calling her an 'old box'!"

"Then why does it look like that?" She found herself enthralled by him once more.

"Because she's broken. She also likes being a blue box, good memories and all that." He shoved the keys back in his pocket with an irritated sigh, extended his hand and snapped his fingers. The doors opened with a creek. "That's more like it!" He strode inside muttering something about needing fewer keys.

Thrace stood open mouthed for a second, a common sensation around the Doctor it seemed, before following him. One thing immediately stuck her. This ship was impossible. It was a small box but it was so big inside. It was curved gracefully too, in a way the Battlestar simply _wasn't_. At its centre was a huge cylinder that rose into the ceiling for a circular control panel covered in dials, levers and all manner of strange devices; even a few viewing screens. She could see a staircase, spiral, in one corner and a couple of doors opposite her. The cylinder glowed with a blue late which seemed to be everywhere, the panels beneath her feet had it filtering though and the control hub also glowed with it.

"This is incredible," she stuttered turning to look at his grinning face. The cylinder glowed brighter.

"That she is," he chirped. He turned to the hub and waved a finger chidingly, "that's Kara, don't be doing that," he warned. If a ship could seem apologetic this one did.

"It's bigger on the inside, how the frack is that possible?" She began to walk about checking to see if it was really true.

"Ah, that's dimensional displacement," the Doctor replied, approaching the control panel and twiddling a few dials experimentally. "Big thing where I'm from, good pun that! Bigger on the inside! But I do wish for a day when there's someone not amazed by that."

"Is that why you can fit more stuff in your pockets?"

"Yes, I'd say so. Got it stitched into all the lining of every jacket I own." He was taking off his long, brown overcoat to reveal a brown pinstripe suit and tie. He slung it over a nearby railing before returning to the control panel. He rubbed it fondly, "she's queasy," he murmured sadly.

"Queasy? A ship can get queasy?" Kara was now quite stunned and, at the same time, completely amazed.

"Yes, she doesn't like your type of travel, puts her all out of sync, poor thing. But we'll survive won't we, old girl?" He smiled warmly.

"If this is your entire ship, how does it fly? It doesn't have any engines!" Kara began to look around for the answer utterly perplexed.

"Ah. That I can't tell you, I'm afraid," he scratched his thick hair as he spoke.

Thrace turned slowly, "why?"

"Well, you just aren't ready for it yet and you're not even suppose to have it," he told her briskly. "It could destroy everything. Also, though I hate to admit it, you're humans and well, humans will be humans. Much as I love you all."

"What do mean by that?" Kara growled, offended.

"You are in the middle of a bloody and violent war. I am not about to give you the technology to extend it, make it worse and possibly endanger this galaxy." The answer was succinct and in a tone that made no room for argument.

He continued to putter about as Kara watched him. He was right and both of them knew it. He wrenched a panel up and pulled a hammer out from underneath it. Casually he hit the control board with and pulled a lever. The ship rumbled and something appeared on the screen. He put on his glasses and examined it, "well that's not helpful."

"What is it?" Kara pressed forward, but all she could see was a weird pattern and odd number,

"Nothing, a fat lot of nothing. Whatever happened here happened a while ago and- Claptrap! Get off that!" he lurched and pulled the cat of the small TARDIS control pad. "Bad kitty! You'll mess it up," he told it chidingly.

"My apologies, master," it chimed.

There was a silence, not awkward however. "Command should see this," Kara muttered after a moment.

"Maybe."

"But we'll be careful-" Kara protested.

"Sure and you'll steal everything you can. I've seen how you canabalise Cylon vessels and that is not happening to my TARDIS. I've let you see as a matter of trust but I can't take it further than that. Please understand," he pleaded. Well it was more of an order than a plea.

There was that weird trust again, slowly she nodded. "I must be getting back. I'm due to fly soon." She turned to leave.

"Good luck, Starbuck," he called.

She nodded in reply as she left the strange blue box under the watchful eye of the Doctor. For the life of her, she couldn't ever remember telling him that her callsign was Starbuck.

---

The Doctor watched her go carefully. The humans here were desperate and much as he liked the apes he wasn't going to trust them one jot. He looked back at the screen and frowned. This interference was decades old. Decades! No one had noticed, it must have been subtle. With all of the jumps this race had made it also made it impossible to tell who, where and when. The important questions. He let out a frustrated sigh.

"Using _that_ on a human, my you've changed," a voice called from the top of the spiral staircase.

He looked up to see a man leaning on the railing above him, "it was necessary," he snorted in return.

"Using psychic compulsion on a person?" The man raised an eyebrow.

He sighed angrily, "You know I don't like to do it," he growled.

"Where are we anyway? Where'd she throw us out?" the man quickly changed the subject.

"Near the Lion Nebula, on a Caprican Battlestar," he answered shortly. This was one of the few individuals with whom he didn't babble.

"One of the Lost Colonies?" The man whistled, "What is there to see here other than primitive apes? They still fighting that created race? The Cylons was it?"

"Yes, but something isn't right. I found that," the Doctor replied, pointing to Claptrap.

This caught the man's attention and he descended the staircase quickly his shoes clacking slightly. He was dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt with no tie. His hair was slightly messy, albeit very short. He too donned a pair of glasses and squinted. "Now that is interesting. Hold him up so I can get a closer look?"

The Doctor scooped up Claptrap beneath his forelegs and held him to the other could see the chest plating and hindquarters. Claptrap squirmed slightly.

The man cocked his head and tutted, "limbs made of a system of interlinking hydraulics and clockwork," he murmured.

"Gives you shivers doesn't it? Space age clockwork?" The Doctor agreed.

"It is beautifully done," the man nodded. "Hm, the spine is clearly the centre hooking point. Does it contain flesh nerves?"

"Artificial and synthetic but definitively alive," the Doctor confirmed.

"Cardiovascular?"

"Complete circulatory with a mixture of one part blood, one part oil and two parts erdicantium synthesiser. Got filters too to clean it." The two shared a moment of scientific glee, but only for a split second.

"Scratch that, it's very beautiful work, look at how they've bonded it all. Even got a mostly organic brain. Someone has spent a great deal of time on it. But some of these parts..." he leaned back and took off his glasses. "Looks a bit suspect in places. What did you tell them it was?" he nodded to the TARDIS door.

The Doctor set Claptrap down and he immediately sat as his feet. "Cytronian."

The man snorted, "Maybe in design but this is no cytronian and you know it. This wasn't grown on that planet. This was made and, while done quite well, I'd say the maker didn't really know what they were trying to achieve."

"I think he was a companion, he's got a basic telepathic field," the Doctor watched the man carefully.

The man stretched and went to the stairs after a moment's silence, "whatever. I don't care. Just get it fixed so we can go will you?"

"Must be feeling brave today giving me orders," the Doctor mused, an element of humour mixed with a dangerous rage. His eyes were on the floor, thinking before flicking back to the man who'd reached the top of the stairs. "I can trust you to not interfere?"

"As if she'd let me out anyway," the man replied holding up an arm to reveal a tin bracelet around his right wrist. "You're her favourite after all. Anyway, it's quieter in here and loud out there. I can hear it through the door." He nodded toward the flimsy looking TARDIS entryway.

The Doctor nodded in reply and watched as the man disappeared upstairs, probably back to his own room. The controls of the TARDIS were DNA locked, he would never be able to use them so he needn't worry leaving it here with him. Nevertheless the worry remained strong. A niggle in the back of his mind that wouldn't go away.

He pulled up a visual screen and fiddled with the settings. Before long he was staring into the Time Vortex thoughtfully. He'd first seen it at eight years old and it had made him run in fear. Now it was like an old friend, an old fear, put on like a shirt every day. So often that he'd forgotten he was wearing it. "What have you gotten us into now?" he asked the TARDIS tiredly.

---

Ooh! Development! What did you guys think? What is going on? And yes, Kara Thrace, it is bigger on the inside. I think he's noticed!

XD

Please R&R!

- D


	9. Demon

Hey there! Yes I know it's short but there is a second chapter on the way! Tomorrow! So yeah...

Enjoy!

Allons-y!

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Demon**

Once again the numbers gathered in the Lost Angel's antechamber. Once again he had begun to move, thrashing in his half-tank in agitation. His mind was straining its way out of the narcotics. He pulled against the cables causing then to creak. All over the ship the Hybrids mimicked his movements.

"This is getting tiresome," the skin cylon known as Brother grumbled. "Unable to pursue our enemy because he refuses to move. We must beat the humans quickly before they muster against us."

"Don't worry," replied a Six, "the Lost Angel has already provided us with the coordinates for the next jump and the next after that. He knows them better than they know themselves. We will find them."

Brother snorted derisively, "and of course the 'Lost Angel' is completely omniscient?" he sneered.

All eyes in the room turned to him, "it is not your place to question an emissary of the One God," replied a Nine quietly. They all continued to stare at him, condemning him for his blasphemy.

"Do not forget the part he has paid in your own creation," continued an Eight.

Brother nodded bitterly and fell silent, stepping back and out of the arena of contest.

The Lost Angel continued to thrash and pull, mouth opening in a silent scream. Suddenly he giggled madly, "The Great Wanderer watches," he murmured with glee. "His burning eyes cross the stars."

The Numbers looked at each other. "Can he see us?" a Seven asked tensely.

Sleepy eyes turned to him and stared, bored into his soul. "No. Not yet." Everyone visibly relaxed. "But he will."

"How long will it take?" a Six pressed.

"Not long. Soon he will see us in the face of the Lion. The Other will follow and the Warriors will fall." The Angel chuckled, "a Storm is coming."

"A human dares to challenge us?" the Seven continued.

"They always do, I don't think they know how to capitulate," Brother grumbled, "even when defeated."

"Yes. No," they turned at these words.

"He's not human?" the Six asked curiously.

"Too human. Too much emotion. Too much rage," the Angel shook slightly, eyes widening in fear.

"What do you see?" It wasn't like the Angel to be so lucid or make so much sense. They'd all heard the previous prophesies as well as the Firestorm Prophecy.

"A terrible burning behind him. Fire is coming." The Angel closed his eyes, mind retreating into the central Cylon processor. He returned to computational physics and sleep. He fell quiet once more. The engines began to whir and a shuddering signalled that soon they would jump to new coordinates, the wait was over.

The room was silent before they quietly filed out, passing the sentinel guards without a word. They moved through the graceful ship in the same manner, only speaking when they reached the control room of the ship. This ship wasn't any ship; it was the flag ship of the entire Cylon fleet. The one that always accompanied the resurrection vessel.

They looked at each other in contemplation. The Lost Angel's words, as much as Brother would love to doubt them, carried warning and with it came fear. They already feared the humans, they were a genocidal unpredictable race. But with this Wanderer there was a new fear, maybe this man could overcome them and destroy them. The Angel had called him the Destroyer of Worlds after all.

"We need to use the Demons," all eyes turned to the Seven who spoke.

"That is forbidden! By God and the Angel!" hissed an Eight. "What you suggest is more than simple idiocy, it is blasphemy."

"But necessary," agreed Brother. "We may be facing an enemy we cannot simply overcome. We know the Demons are beyond reason but perhaps we merely need to direct them."

"What do you suggest?" a Six inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"We release them on the human Battlestar and let them run wild through the ship," he mused.

"And then what? You aren't looking at the bigger picture!" the Eight insisted. "Once free we may not be able to contain them once more, it is only with the help of the Angel that we've held them this long."

"We can't always rely on the Angel for everything," sighed Six, "he is our guidance from God, not our physical help. We caught them once, we could do it again."

"I don't think we can, this is suicide! You know what is said of them!"

"They are not so unlike us and if we need to make a deal with Demons to defeat them so be it. But if you are truly uncomfortable we shall hold a vote," a Seven reasoned.

"How about a compromise?" one Six countered. "We only release one Demon. Then it would be easier to recapture it."

The others nodded, this idea seemed wise. "Then we shall hold a vote on the compromise."

They all agreed and the process commenced. After all they considered themselves more democratic than their human counterparts. Motion was carried to release the Demons, it went through with a ratio of nine to one. The Eights sadly nodded, they couldn't argue. So an operation was planned as they shot across space. The humans would never see it coming.

* * *

How was it? I'm sorry for the shortness! There will be a new chap tomorrow! Promise! This one just needed its own section.

R&R!

- D


	10. The Call For Help

Well here I am! As promised with a new chapter! Same things as always apply, hope you like it and everything. Sorry I'm not as upbeat as usual, bad day at work (grumblegrumble)

Anywho! R&R!

Allons-y!

------

**Chapter Ten: The Call for Help**

The Doctor skipped through the ship happily, it wasn't so bad here after all. They hadn't had a Cylon incursion in a while and moral was high. The crew were even beginning to be pleasant to him! He'd worked his first shift at the medical block too. It was mostly cold compresses and stitching small wounds but it was still fun. He liked helping people. It made him happy.

A kind marine directed him to the Admiral's quarters while he skipped, his trainers squeaking ever so slightly. He was due there for some sort of meeting, a treaty or something. He wasn't all that interested but he'd been promised tea. He liked tea. Tea was good.

He grinned at the marines outside the Admiral's door warmly, they nervously smiled back. "Can I go in?" he asked politely. He'd been so rude earlier, Rose would've hit him so hard.

They nodded slowly, eyes flitting to each other. Clearly not used to being talked to. "Ah! Thank you!" Without another word he bounded inside.

The room was clearly a combined meeting room and living quarters and very nicely decorated. It even had a small shrine in the corner dedicated to what looked like a pagan god of some kind. His eyes flitted over the books on a nearby shelf. Paying no mind to anyone in the room he pulled one out and examined it. It had no corners. He looked at it in amazement. "It has no corners," he muttered.

"Doctor," a voice called behind him.

"I like corners! Especially on books. They're traditional," he continued to muse to himself, turning it over in his hands.

"Doctor," the voice became more insistent.

"Why would they cut off the corners?" He put the book back on the shelf with a frown.

"Doctor!"

"Oh sorry! What is it? No need to shout," he beamed at them happily.

The occupants of the room, one Admiral Adama, President Roslin, Lee Adama, Gaius Baltar and Saul Tigh, stared back at him. The Admiral indicated a chair and the Doctor promptly skipped over to it, seating himself. He put his feat on the desk in front of him, Adama senior's, with a relaxed expression. He put them down when Roslin coughed politely with a sigh. "What can I do for you?" he asked amicably.

"Doctor, when you outlined your agreement with us promised us information about the creature discovered on this ship," Adama began. "What have you discovered?"

"Well, like I told you he's a bio-mechanised creature. Bits of flesh and bits of cogs. Really clever design actually, if a little haphazard," the Doctor told them with a shrug.

"And it's harmless?" Lee Adama pressed.

"_He_ is harmless," the Doctor replied, correcting him brazenly. "I took a good look at him and his insides, nothing more than a mimicry."

They seemed satisfied with this and moved swiftly onto the next aspect of their agenda. "Doctor, you told us you're an alien and that's hard for us to believe. But if we do believe it I believe it only courteous that we offer you the same tolerance and etiquette we offer any minority on board," this came from Roslin.

"Why thank you, Madam President," he smiled.

"But in order to do that we first need to know who we are dealing with, trust is based on honesty after all," she continued.

"I wondered when this would come up," he laughed.

"So you understand that we would like to know a little bit more about your...species?" Adama chimed in.

"I thought we'd been through it but sure, go ahead," the Doctor continued to smile. It was almost unnerving for the humans present.

"Alright, we have a few questions. First, what planet are you actually from?"

The Doctor was about to reply when suddenly the ship shuddered and, on a nearby wall, the radio sparked to life. The ship shuddered again. "Admiral Adama, can you hear me, sir?"

The Admiral stood and strode to the radio, "report, soldier."

"It's the Cylons, Admiral. Half the fracking armada just jumped onto our radar and now they are up our arse!" Those words sent visible fear through the humans present.

"The fleet?" The question was tense, prepared for the worst.

"Jumped away," came the response after a pause and everyone let out a relieved breath. "Jumped on emergency coordinates."

Immediately everyone made for the door and the bridge. The Doctor tagged along, as if he'd be left behind. They were running. Now there was something he was used to. Even in the worst situations he could have the best fun.

When they reached the control deck it was a hive of activity, shouting and orders and confusion. This was of course what the Cylons wanted. He stood back and watched as men and women ran back and forth. What surprised him was that they'd been found so quickly. He shrugged it off, maybe they were just smarter than the humans.

Upon reaching the control room he realised that the young soldier had been right, the radar was filled with angry red dots and the air was alive with the sound of panic. Yet there it was again, that psychic probe. That brush against the edge of his senses, familiar now and so very tired. He closed his eyes trying to tune into it, he could hear an edge of music. Every psychic being sang their own song after all, as the Ood had said. If you knew the song, you knew the singer. But the song was muted, so very quiet. Maybe if he could just-

"Doctor," a voice called him back once more. He opened his eyes to see Lieutenant Gaeta glaring at him.

"Hm?" he questioned with a smile. Then he remembered he was supposed to be helping with jump coordinates. He took up a pencil and idly began to write down numbers and calculations.

The ship shuddered slightly as something hit the side with a crunch. "What was that?" bellowed Saul Tigh.

"Sir, we have heavy incoming!" replied a nearby soldier at what looked like to be a control desk. It was just like a scifi movie! "We're taking damage!"

"Yes, but that didn't sound like an explosion," Adama stated coolly.

The soldier squinted at his instruments and frowned, "appears to be some kind of docking vessel, sir. It's latched onto the side of this ship," he was interrupted by a grating noise that echoed through the very timbers.

The Doctor whistled and they looked at him. "Well, it sounds like whatever's in the ship wants to say hello as that's the sound of a high frequency partical laser cutting through the hull of a Battlestar."

His words sparked panic, first to react, unsurprisingly, was Adama. "Which area was it?"

"Near the hangar deck, sir."

"Seal it off and keep the hangar intact if you can. Post marines at the entrance to protect the flight deck, we need our birds, soldier," he spoke quickly, concisely and firmly. The Doctor liked him more and more.

"Deck section sealed, sir. We've lost maintanence areas," was the eventual reply.

"Show me." Adama examined the blue prints on the soldier's screen as he indicated which sections had been lost to possible insurgents.

He jumped when the Doctor suddenly shouted as he hadn't realised the man had come to stand behind him, "No no no!"

"Sir?" the soldier asked, utterly perplexed.

"My ship is down there," he grumbled. All of the central command turned to look at him and the Doctor scratched his unruly hair in thought. "Well, it's not as if they can get in I suppose, I have got extrapolator shielding and a DNA lock. But the old girl will never forgive the hubbub. I'm sorry I'm babbling aren't I? I do that when I'm excited, can't seem to stop myself-"

"You're excited?" Roslin interrupted after a moment. He'd forgotten she was even there. "You're excited during a battle that could destroy us?" She was a little incredulous.

"Oh, yes," he replied glibely. "It won't destroy you anyway, you're big, bad humanity after all." He laughed to himself.

"You're insane," she continued.

"So they have said," he beamed back at her. "But what's life without a little danger, hmm? Let's you know you're alive!" He reached over and flicked a nearby switch.

"Sir," barked a soldier suddenly. "Cylon raiders are losing navigation abilities, our Vipers are confirming it."

"What did you do?" asked Adama after a shocked second.

"Oh nothing. Picked up the Cylon blindfold matrix they were trying to broadcast to your ships, replicated it back and looped it on a therdack scale to continue self replicate infinitely for as long as we are in range of transmission. Easy really." He returned to his paper and calculations.

"You did what?" this came from Baltar himself, the proclaimed genius.

"I turned up into down and left into right. Should confuse them for a while. But computers are good at figuring out patterns like that," he put the pencil between his teeth and pulled out his glasses.

"How did you do that?" asked Baltar putting on his own glasses.

"Now that would be telling," the Doctor smiled to himself, almost done. Doing the work of a day in ten minutes.

"Give me a status report on the incursion," called Adama after a moment.

"Sir, marines report no contact!"

Adama nodded slowly, "we'll keep on the defensive. Let's not get carried away on good fortune."

It was a few hectic moments later when a transmission came through that would change everything. The Doctor was just translating his calculations out of Gallifreyan and inputting them into the computer when the sirens began again.

"Sir, Cylons appear to have regained navigation," a soldier shouted over the noise.

"Frack," growled Saul Tigh.

"Sir," another called bewildered. "Raiders are retreating."

Everyone turned to stare at him, why weren't the Cylons pressing their advantage of numbers? Suddenly half of the Cylon base ships disappeared in a flash of FTL until only one remained. What was more shocking was that it was shooting down the Cylon raiders.

"Sir," it was the same soldier, "we're getting a distress signal."

"Where from?" Tigh was first on the ball.

"From the Base Star, sir. They're hailing us for help," the soldier seemed to bentering a state of shock.

"Let it burn," growled Tigh.

At the exact same time Adama spoke: "Patch it through."

A visual appeared on main screen and showed what appeared to be the Cylon control deck. It was covered in bodies, debrie and was severely damaged. In front of them was one of the skin Cylons, she was blond, dishevalled and bleeding. She looked like she was struggling just to talk to them. Her words shocked the humans. "You have to run away," she gasped, casting a terrified look behind her at the door.

"What's going on?" Adama inquired tersely.

"They're coming. We were stupid, so stupid! You have to run and run now!" she all but screamed, flinching at a nearby grinding sound.

"Who's coming? Why are you helping us?" This came from none of other than Roslin.

"There's no time! You've got to get away," she stopped, breathing harshly. She was dying.

"Why are you helping us?" repeated Tigh. "It could be a trick," he asid to the others.

"Now they're free no one is safe, not us, not you. The picture is so much bigger than our war now," she coughed, blood flecked the screen.

"What is it?" the Doctor asked quietly, "what have you let loose?"

"The Demons! We thought we could control them, use them against you. But they were too strong," she gasped.

"Use them against us?"

"In an incursion pod," she also fell sideways with the effort of speaking.

"And the other ships just left you?" he asked incredulously.

"The Hybrids must be protected, now go. Go quickly." She stopped short as there was a sudden swooshing of doors opening. "They're here," she whispered with terror. Suddenly the screen was filled with static. Suddenly the Base Star was gone as it jumped away.

There was utter silence. Well, there was until the radio crackled urgently, "sir, we have confirmation of contact. But it's not a Cylon!"

"What is it?" Adama pressed, grabbing the nearby radio.

"I don't know, sir. But we can't stop it. We're down," he was gasping, clearly in pain.

"Who's down?"

"The whole squad, everyone's-" he was cut off by a strange noise and his own pain filled screams.

Adama moved to silence the radio but the Doctor's hand was on his arm. "Wait," he asked, face intent. "Let's hear what we're up against."

They waited in silence until there was more shouting. "Fire, fire," someone howled desperately.

As he heard the reply the Doctor went very still, his eyes wide.

"**Exterminate. Exterminate!"**

**-----**

Well done **not-for-lack-of-trying **for guessing it! It probably wasn't that hard but I digress, I liked to think of it as a plot twist! Also glad that you thought the same as me when it came to the end of BSG2003, nice to have some support in it (my flatmate hates me for it lol)**  
**

**Polaron: **Hi there! About the cylons I used, I know they're taken but its been ages since I watched the series so I don't remember what for. It doesn't matter anyway! You'll see! XD

Any other questions feel free to ask!

R&R! Please feed my confidence! It will love you in return!

- D**  
**


	11. Waiting

A new chapter as quickly as possible and as lovely as possible! That's my motto! Thanks for all the support for the last two chaps and I'm glad you liked them!

Well, no major questions so on with the show!

Allons-y!

----

**Chapter Eleven: Waiting**

The Doctor froze and time seemed suddenly ever so slow. The effect of Time Lord adrenaline was a bit more potent than human adrenaline and yet he couldn't move. How had this happened? How had they survived yet again when he'd given up so much? It wasn't fair!

But life wasn't fair and that was one of the high costs of living. His head snapped up and he seized the radio from Adama. He began returning it to get to the nearest squad of marines to the Dalek's last known position. He ignored the shouts of those around him. "This is command," he barked harshly, waving a hand to hold of Tigh.

"This is Squad 7 receiving. Orders, sir?" a crackly voice filtered through.

"Soldier you are to seal off that area of the hangar at maximum security and then evacuate your men out, do you understand me?" the Doctor was almost shouting.

"But, sir, there are still men in there!" the marine protested.

"Not for much longer, pull out and seal it. That's an order!" the Doctor barked, he had no patience left.

"Understood," came the prompt reply. "But, sir, we'll have to seal off the left hangar."

"Do it and do it now!" now the Doctor was definitely shouting. He cut off the radio and it was snatched out his hand by Tigh.

"What are you doing?" the second in command growled angrily.

"I am saving your life," he replied, looking up with cold eyes. Eyes so cold that Tigh stopped dead.

"We can't lose a hangar," he replied feebly.

"You'll have to, we need to contain it. Well that's all we can do for now. There's no time for anything else. We're living on borrowed time at best. What kind of weapons do you have?" the Doctor had his head in his hands and was getting angrier by the second.

"Guns?" a nearby marine replied stupidly.

"Do they fire bullets?" the Doctor's tone was clipped.

"Well, yeah-"

"Then they're useless!" He almost banged his head into a wall. "Just my luck to be stuck on a primitive battleship, not to mention old, with one of _them_!" He ran a hand through his hair.

"Excuse me, I will not have anyone insulting this ship," Adama spoke quietly, a tone you didn't disagree with. "What exactly are we facing, Doctor? What is in my hangar?"

The Doctor took a deep breath, "it's from an old race, much older than yours and nowhere near as old as mine. It's bred to hate, to kill and to maim. It's evil and the Cylons have let one loose on this ship!" He was almost shouting again.

"What does it want?" Roslin asked, "surely it can be reasoned with?"

The Doctor actually laughed in her face, the laughter was bitter and angry. "No it can't. It's only thought is to kill. To hate. Think of how you are with Cylons; you kill because they are not the same species as you and you fear them. They kill for the same reasons except they have an added incentive of former slavery. Imagine the rage you have towards them and magnify it, make it so great that the reasons to kill vanish and only the urge remains. Daleks are like that. They'll kill anything that isn't a Dalek too."

"So you've sealed it down there? What about the soldiers?" this came from Tigh.

"They're already dead, have been since it got here. Bullets won't pierce the casing, in fact none of your weapons will. We'll have to improvise," he smacked his forehead. "Think, just think!"

"It appears to be transmitting some sort of signal," called a nearby soldier.

"Display it!" the Doctor replied, looking up.

The cracking, grating voice came through the speakers once more and only the Doctor didn't flinch. **"Hide site located. Extermination of local enforcement teams confirmed."**

Everyone jumped when a voice replied, similarly terrifying of course. **"Begin the search."**

"**I obey,**" the Dalek in the hangar ground out.

"Search?" the Doctor asked, straightening and worrying his hair. "What are they searching for? What is there on this ship that could keep them occupied? What do they want? I hate unanswered questions. What's its progress?" he asked a nearby controller.

"Seems to be looping the hangar deck, sir. Can't tell what the frack it wants though," the man replied darkly.

"Whatever it wants is down there and that is a very bad thing," the Doctor's eyes narrowed.

"Why is that?" Adama asked, speaking for the first time in minutes. He was the first to give way to someone with superior knowledge and the Doctor was clearly that someone.

"My ship is down there," the Doctor replied searching his pockets.

"It's looking for your ship?" Tigh asked quickly.

"I don't think so, I doubt it even knows I'm here. But we really, really, _really_ don't want it to find her," the Doctor was sounding more and more stressed.

"What exactly can your ship do?" Adama was now very wary.

"It's very good at travelling; we'll leave it at that." The Doctor rubbed his chin. "It'll take a while for the Dalek to do a complete scan of a large area, I'd say ten minutes, so in that time I'd really like to talk to one of the Cylon converts on board." His voice was even colder. "I want to know why they had Dalek's in the first place!"

He began to walk to the door before turning slightly, "it's probably safe for you to land your Vipers on the other flight deck. But you'll have to confine them there. Like if you had a virus or something." He nodded and continued walking; when no one followed he turned again and beamed at them. "Well what are you waiting for? Allons-y!"

----

Kara Thrace was beyond angry. The battle had turned strange and now they were confined to half the flight deck on the promise of something deadly in the other half. Don't get her wrong, she wasn't about to walk in there. That thing had taken apart a Cylon Star from the sound of thing. She just wanted to go to sleep. However here she was, lying against a small wooden crate in the far corner watching men and women run to and fro.

She stretched her arms and yawned. She'd only been up sixteen hours maybe she could manage a few more. She thought of the Doctor. He was a weird sort but he could go for a whole week without sleep. What she wouldn't give for that right now. She stretched out her legs and placed a hand on her gun, always prepared.

She shot up with a strangled yell and almost fired when something leapt lightly into her lap. Something cold and metal. Small blue lights looked up at her as she stared down into the mechanical face of the small robot cat that had started the whole conundrum. It cocked its head and examined her closely. "You are Kara Thrace," it said in a mechanical, if childish, voice.

"Yes," she said slowly, shocked it had spoken to her.

"Initial scans indicate that you have a low empathic field rating at three point five," it told her.

"That's good," she replied, now really confused, trying to edge away from the thing.

It tried to lift itself up to get to her eye level and a strange whirring started as the cameras that formed its eyes zoomed in and scanned her. "You are compatible," it confirmed nodding.

"Compatible?"

"A state of emergency has been authorised due a hull breach and incursion. Enemy has been designated First Class and therefore Security Protocol One has been initiated. In absence of the Keeper any individual with a natural Empathic Field above three is deemed compatible." It cocked its head, "you are designated temporary Keeper."

"What?" Now she was really confused.

"You have been designated temporary Keeper," it repeated slower, as if she were stupid.

She rolled her eyes, "I get that but what does it mean? Stupid thing," she grumbled half-heartedly.

The cat sat back and watched her for a moment in contemplation. Suddenly there was a hissing, the sound of hidden rollers beginning to move. The interlocking panels that formed the small creature's chest protection began to unlock and slid back. Plate after plate retracted until the inside of its chest was laid bare. There, beside what was clearly an organic beating heart encased a weird kind of class, was something small and shining.

Balancing on his back legs the cat reached round a front paw and Thrace watched silently as the joints of the paw realigned and transformed to show a makeshift hand of sorts. It reached inside its own chest and plucked the thing from beside its heart, grasping it by its attached chain. Wordlessly it offered the object to her, gazing expectantly.

Tentatively she reached out and took the small metal oval from him. Immediately the chest cavity realigned itself once more, the organs and wires disappearing behind erdicantium plates. It was smooth, a device she'd never seen before, and she could feel the mechanism working beneath the metal. What she assumed was the front was covered in weird designs and sigils, a language she couldn't read. It was beautiful. There was a button on the top, presumably to open it.

She was about to click it when she felt it, the softest touch against her mind itself. _"Don't"_ a voice whispered in her ear, _"it's not safe. Keep me closed."_ The voice was young, a boy nearly a man.

She stared at the device as if it was a snake, frozen and shocked. Suddenly there were pictures in her mind, memories that weren't her: a laboratory, a smiling face, an orange sky and two suns. Then a fire, a terrible fire and fear and panic and – abruptly the images stopped. _"You must keep me safe,"_ the voice whispered.

"Safe from what?" she asked quietly, forgetting for a moment she as talking to herself.

There was no answer.

"What do you want?" she tried again curiously.

"_Waiting, hide me,"_ it whispered back.

"Waiting? What for?"

"_Hide me!"_ it hissed.

It was like a compulsion as she slowly placed the object in her pocket, concealed and hidden. She stood and dusted her trousers, moving to join the other pilots. It was as if she'd completely forgotten about what she'd only just put in her pocket.

----

Dun dun DUN! So what did you think? Claptrap was not as innocent as he seemed!

Please review! They make my dull life worth living :D All criticism welcome as long as it's constructive XD!

- D


	12. Cylons and Cybermen and Daleks

Hey all! Sorry this is a bit later than I previously planned but I went away for the weekend to see my folks (they're on holiday). I got sunburned. Got stuck in a crowded train with two buggys, a double pushchair, a leaking toilet, eight people and four bikes. I didn't even make it to the seating section for an hour. Was not good, people. Was not good.

But here I am! Here is the chapter so all it good!

Hope you like it and thanks for all the support and stuff!

Please show me more and review again!

Allons-y!

---

**Chapter Twelve: Cylons and Cybermen and Daleks**

Sharon shifted nervously in her seat opposite the stranger she'd been told was actually an alien. He was a slight man, not overly muscled and wearing a brown pinstripe suit and glasses. He didn't appear threatening at all. When she'd seen him before he'd been smiling brightly, tinkering with something and generally jogging around, hair in a state of disarray. He was always running it seemed. He'd never felt threatening before.

But now was different. Those brown eyes seemed to stare into her very soul. They were cold and old. They had seen eternity and the collapse of worlds. Sharon knew that, in comparison to this man, she was as an ant is to a sun. Small in the light of the bigger picture. Rarely was the light of the sun directed and focused at the ant but when it was the ant would burn. If this man chose to he could destroy her. She could feel it more than any human on board. There was cold fury in those eyes and she was terrified. Her husband, Helo, laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. There was a metal table between them and guards at the door, the man had no authority to speak of. Yet she was still scared.

"I'm told you're a Cylon," he began, "and I must admit your camouflage is really very good." He paused and leaned back, scratching at his wild hair. "You sort of remind me of Cybermen, they're another species. Well sort of. Except they were made of human brains in metal shells, nasty business really."

"They cut people up and put their brains in computers?" the Cylon asked, horrified.

"Yep," the Doctor replied, making the 'p' pop as he said it. "Inhibited the emotions too, removed the very thing that made them human. Sad waste really."

"They had no emotions at all?" Roslin inquired from behind him.

"Oh they had them. And it killed them. It would kill any sane human being, no one wants to be a monster. But enough of this depressing stuff," he rubbed his hair absently. "You have emotions so you're all fine and dandy. Fully functional AI programing, I'd say you were actually alive myself. Not unlike Claptrap." He paused with a troubled look on his face, "Oh how could I forget? I'm the Doctor and I'd like to ask you a few questions," he exclaimed.

She nodded silently, looking to Adama who stood in the corner for reassurance.

"Now," the Doctor said brusquely, "we were informed by a survivor on the last Cylon battle ship before it left that you had released 'a Demon' on this ship. This 'Demon' of yours comes from a race known as the Daleks. How did you find them?"

He was straight to the point and his words got colder with every syllable. "We found them long ago, it was before the birth of the new Numbers," she said quietly. "They were trapped, bound in a cage by the One God."

"Really now," the Doctor mused. "And how did he do that? More importantly, how did you know they were 'Demons?'"

"It was a servant of the God that did the binding, a being sent to guide us to Earth. It was he who bound them," she stopped, Helo rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

"Now we're getting somewhere," the Doctor put his feet up on the table, seemingly relaxed but the entire time his eyes remained utterly focused. "This servant, who are they? Where did you find them?"

"The servant is called the Lost Angel and we found him not long after we fled Earth in the first war."

"Where did you find him? Never mind that, how did you find him? What was going on at the time? Did the Demons come through with him?" the Doctor suddenly sat upright, taking his feet off the table.

"There was an explosion on one of the base ships, took it apart and killed all aboard. When reinforcements arrived they discovered the scene of a mighty battle, the Angel lay on the floor greatly injured. The Demons were bound in a cage in front of him. We scanned him and at once realised he was sent by the One God-"

"How did you know that?" interrupted the Doctor.

"He was like us, Cylon signal but skin and flesh like men," she confirmed.

"You got the idea of human Cylons from him! I knew you couldn't' have dreamed it up by yourselves, well dreamed it up and got it to work so well. Computers just aren't that imaginative. You _copied_ him!" The Doctor stood and began pacing.

Sharon nodded emphatically, "we obeyed the will of God."

"How were the Demons bound? Answer as clearly as you can, this is very important," the Doctor was now insistent and urgent.

"Why is it so important?" Helo asked, not happy about the pressure Sharon was under.

"I can find out how they got here and, importantly, who they were fighting. There aren't many who can disable, not just one Dalek, but a small number of Daleks," the Doctor was nearly jumping for glee despite his seriousness.

Sharon hesitated before answering, "There was a dome of light and electricity flowed through it as if alive. It can from small devices around the Demons and within the dome they couldn't move."

"How many devices?" the question was clipped.

"Twelve, no bigger than my hand."

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully, "what happened when you touched the dome?" he said suddenly, eyes sharp.

"All things stopped in the dome, even things from the outside. And it rippled like water."

The Doctor suddenly leapt to his feet with a triumphant shout of _'ha'_. "Of course! The only thing that could hold them for so long! Your conflict has been going on for forty years; of course it's that! It's brilliant! Utterly brilliant!" He began to put on a coat with a huge grin on his face. "That really narrows it down!"

"What does that mean?" Adama asked quietly and the Doctor jumped, he'd forgotten he was there.

"Well, those twelve devices are like dampeners – albeit very advanced ones! Twelve temporal dampeners equally spaced in a circle produce an electromagnetic dome operating on a quantum scale endlessly replicating power round and round and inwards. Within the dome all things stop completely and utterly temporally locked! It's a Time Lock! You can't get out and you can't get in. A brilliant defence mechanism! Well attack mechanism in this case." He literally bounded out the room, the others following behind him quickly. He was sprinting toward the nearest radio.

"And what does that mean?" Helo pressed.

The Doctor stopped abruptly and turned to grin at him. "It means our Angel isn't as Lost as the Cylons think and I doubt he was sent by a god of any kind." He ignored Sharon's sputters. "Technology like that narrows him down to a handful of races, all of them very intelligent and even fewer that would tangle with the Daleks. But of course the Cylons couldn't leave the lock alone! You didn't think 'oh, there's an obviously complicated prison with something presumably dangerous locked inside! Shall we leave it alone? Shall we be safe? NAH! Let's open it! Obviously this deadlock seal isn't here for a good reason!'" Like a switch being flicked he was suddenly angry.

"Races?" asked Helo, "you mean-"

The radio just in front of them began to crackle, "this is the command deck," it called, "Admiral are you receiving me?"

Adama seized the responder, "Adama here, report."

"Sir, the thing in the hangar it's on the move, it's doing something weird. You gotta see this, sir!"

The Doctor snatched the transmitter, "what exactly is it doing?"

"It, er, shot down part of the ceiling section and something fell out. It's scanning it now. Says something about a 'chameleon'," the soldier replied.

The Doctor all but dropped the receiver. He handed it back to Adama and slowly turned to those behind him. "I need to get to that hangar deck now. Right now," he told them, a frown on his face.

"But that thing's in there, what are you going to do? Talk it to death?" Tigh remarked.

"Good idea but no, no I'm going to ask it some questions."

"Questions? That thing just destroyed every marine it could reach and you want to ask it questions?" Tigh was a little shocked.

"Of course I do, I want to know why it's here," the Doctor replied slowly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small silver object. "Only an idiot shoots first, after all."

"What's that?" asked Roslin, eyeing it.

"A mobile phone, a long range communications device," the Doctor said as he dialled in a very familiar number. "Sorta like a radio."

"Who are you calling? Don't you know Cylons can hijack wireless communications?" this was from Lee Adama.

"I very much doubt they can lock onto this one, this is above and beyond them. And, for your information, I'm calling back up. I'm not stupid enough to waltz into a room with a Dalek, even if I'm sure it won't kill me," the Doctor snorted.

"I thought you were alone," Admiral Adama said quietly.

The Doctor turned, the phone pressed to his ear, and raised an eyebrow. "Now when did I say that?"

He could hear the phone ringing dully for few moments before it connected, "hello?" a tired voice said from the other side.

"It's me," the Doctor replied quickly.

"Though it might be, don't quite know what I'd tell Miss Jones or any of your other sycophants if they called. 'He's busy can I take a message?' I think not," the voice was snide.

The Doctor sighed and rolled his eyes, he squeezed the bridge of his nose. "There's a Dalek in the hangar near the TARDIS, probably only four or five meters in fact."

"There's a Dalek here?" now he was incredulous.

"I need you to create a jamming device and knock out its anti-gravity pads to impair its movement, can you do that?" the Doctor was quickly growing impatient.

"Flipstick circuit-breaker in the threshold manipulator invented by Donna noble? Of course I can, I'm not human you know. I take it you're on your way?"

"Yes, I want to ask it some questions and I want to know what it's found. What's so interesting about this ship in particular," the Doctor began to walk as he heard the man begin to tinker with things in the TARDIS.

"It's targeted this place?" he was surprised.

"Looks like it," the Doctor replied shortly.

"You know, a supposed cytronian and Dalek indicate a very interesting situation. Not to mention that something here has been subtly changed, no so you'd notice of course. But things have been-"

"Sped up," the Doctor interrupted. "I know. Just make the disabler and I'll see you soon," the Doctor moved to hang up.

"Ooh, a trip outside I can hardly wait for the noise," was all he got before the other disconnected.

The Doctor sighed in frustration. This was really not his day. "Here come the drums," he said as he broke into a flat out sprint.

---

Well done for anyone who guessed it, it's gonna be fun now!

What else did you think? Liking it so far? Any suggestions?

These are my questions, they need answers!

R&R!

- D


	13. Survivors

Here I am people! Long time no see? I'm here to tell you of my continued war against my sunburn! It was long and terrible but I am losing. I shall not give in to such tyranny! Never fear!

Anywho, I'm really here for this chapter of course! I'm trying to draw it all together and I'm glad people like it so far. Sorry for confusing you **not for lack of trying**, it wasn't what I meant to do! Honest!

You'll find out everything in good time.

As soon as I write it :D

Anyway, hope you enjoy this new chapter!

----

**Chapter Thirteen: Survivors**

The Dalek moved slowly around the empty deck, emotionlessly shoving human bodies aside as it scanner. Its eyestalk twisted up to scan the ceiling carefully, arms twitching like insect antennae. It glided closer to get a better look. "**Alert! Alert! Evidence located!**" it shrieked. It shot down the air vent where the small cytronian cat had first been located. A strange headset clattered to the floor. It was a mess of wires and splintered metal. Broken long before the Dalek had taken the shot.

The Dalek moved closer and extended its sucker arm for a closer scan. "**Origin confirmed!**" The dome turned to gaze up into seemingly empty space. "**Open communications barrier!**"

In mid air a screen seemed to appear, a holo-projection emitted from the Dalek's eyestalk. In the picture were three other Daleks, all of them the same bronze colour as the first. "**What is the status of the search?**"one asked.

"**Evidence of the fugitive located!**" the first told them.

"**Begin maximum extermination of human opposition! The fugitive must be apprehended!**" was the reply.

"**I obey!**" the first responded and closed the visual link.

As the conversation came to a close Tigh looked at the Doctor, who stood at the sealed off door of the hangar peering in. The Doctor caught his eye and grinned insanely; he took of his glasses and straightened his suit. He'd taken off his coat while interrogating the Cylon convert (only after transferring his sonic screwdriver). Smoothly he opened the door and strode inside.

"**Alert! Alert!**" the Dalek shrieked immediately. "**Intruder!**"

"Hello!" the Doctor replied merrily.

"**Shape identifies as enemy! Identify yourself!**" it grated, vibrating slightly as the lights on its dome flashed.

"Now that's not very polite," the Doctor mused rubbing his chin.

"**You will identify! Identify!**" it screamed even louder.

The Doctor put up his hands in mocking surrender and laughed even as the Dalek twitched menacingly. Soldiers began to creep in behind him. There was an ever so slight creek and another shadow joined the hangar from the far side, disappearing behind a stack of ammunition crates.

"**You will identify! Identify!**" the Dalek repeated.

Then there was a mocking voice that could barely contain its smugness. "How's this for identification?" it said and there was a sudden humming. Whereas before the Dalek had been gliding and hovering with is there was a sudden crunch from below it and a flickering of light. It clattered to the floor flailing wildly, well as much as a Dalek could actually flail.

"**Alert! Alert! I cannot move! Movement impaired!**"

"And for my next trick," the Doctor said reaching in his pocket as another man in a suit, from the opposite side of the room strode forward to join him brandishing a strange device. He pressed what looked like a television remote and the Dalek's weapon suddenly stopped moving entirely. He grinned happily, "mini-time lock! How clever am I?" he said to the man approaching him. The man nodded approvingly with a small smile and tossed him the device.

"**I am impaired!**" it shrieked again. Then after a moment, "**Identify!**"

"Bit thick for a Dalek," the man mused.

"Tell me about it" the Doctor replied as a clatter of fire from the soldier behind them bounced harmlessly off the Dalek's force field. It swivelled to look at them sharply, completely unharmed. "Told you it wouldn't work" he told them tiredly.

"**Initiating DNA scan,**" it grated and the Doctor edged away from the sucker extended at him. Suddenly the Dalek went very still.

"What's it doing?" asked a soldier.

The man next to the Doctor laughed madly. He was wearing black slacks and a simple pressed white shirt, sans a tie. He had mousy blond short hair and, unlike the Doctor, did not wear trainers but smart office. "It's afraid," he told the soldier mockingly.

"**Daleks do not fear,**" it argued.

"But I think you do," the man replied almost going forward, but the Doctor's hand on his arm stopped him. "If you don't fear us then identify us. Go on!" He snorted, "Coward."

"**DNA identification complete. Alert! Alert! Time Lord DNA detected!**" he responded. "**Who are you?**"

The man looked to the Doctor and swept an arm out indicating he had the floor for introductions with an extravagant bow. The Doctor sighed and put the remote in his pocket. He strode closer fearlessly and all smiles and laughter were gone. He pulled himself tall, his height was quite considerable after all, and looked down at the creature before him. "I'm the Doctor," he said and the Dalek actually flinched but the Doctor kept going. "I'm a Time Lord. I'm from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I'm 903 years old and I would very much like to know why you're here."

"**You are the Doc-Tor!**" it was now very surprised, if Daleks could feel surprise. "**You will be exterminated!**"

"With a non-working gun? I think I will not," he snorted.

The Dalek turned to the other man, "**Identify! You also carry Time Lord DNA!**"

"Oh, that's easy," the man replied coming to stand next to the Doctor. "I'm the Master, I'm a Time Lord. Same home, same constellation, roughly the same age but not so much of a pansy."

"I am not a pansy," the Doctor replied hurt, turning to him.

"Yes you are. Never carry a gun, relying on good luck to get you through things. You don't even have the capacity to do what needs to be done," the Master put his hands in his pockets and swiveled to face the Doctor. "Peaceable to the point of indolence, isn't that what the crylotanes said?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes, "still defeated you didn't I?" he said quietly.

"Like I said," the Master continued, straightening his shirt, "lucky."

"**Social interaction will cease! What is your purpose here?**"

They turned their attention back to the matter at hand. They'd completely forgotten where they were again. It seemed to be a chronic Time Lord problem that non-awareness of time. "No, no, no! You aren't in a position to ask any questions," the Doctor exclaimed joyfully. "But I would very much like to know what you're doing on this ship. Why are you here? Forget that, how are you here?" he leaned very close.

"**Daleks do not answer the questions of Time Lords! We must return to the war!**" It tried once more to grab him.

"Well apparently you do," the Master snorted derisively. "What war anyway? You and your lot are long dead now."

"**The Dalek's thrive! We must return to the Time War! The Time Lords must be exterminated!**"

"Excuse me?" the Doctor said incredulously. "_Excuse me?_" Even the Master had gone very still. No one moved, not one person moved.

The Master cracked first, "Exterminate this," he growled pulling something from his pocket and firing. The Dalek's head exploded showering them all in entrails and metal. But still the Doctor didn't move. "How is it here?" the Master asked him.

"I don't know," he replied.

"You don't know or you're not telling? You're the great Doctor! Surely you know something?" the Master was literally shouting in his face.

"And I'm telling you I don't! I just don't alright!" the Doctor roared back. The command of the Battlestar were shocked, they'd never seen such rage on the Doctor's face before. "Never mind that! That," he said pointing the device in the Master's hand, "is a particle gun. Where did you get a particle gun?"

"A present of our friend Jack Harkness I should think, left over from the Crucible," the Master told him, examining it.

The Doctor held out his hand wordlessly and, with a heaving sigh, the Master placed the gun in his hand. "What's bitten you?" he asked irritably.

"I hate guns," the Doctor said blandly, putting it in his pocket. He also stooped to pick up whatever the Dalek had been examining, he pocketed it expressionlessly. It was great to have pockets that were bigger on the inside.

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten," the Master began to walk away, back to the TARDIS.

"Wait a second," the both turned to look at Laura Roslin. "What exactly just happened?"

"Oh! Hello, Madam President," the Doctor replied beaming, his happy facade put back on. "What was what about?"

"This," she said, gesturing to the destroyed Dalek, dead bodies and the Master. "What exactly is going on?"

"Well, it's complicated," the Doctor hedged.

"Not too complicated to explain, come with me." That was an order and the Doctor was about to protest, he honestly was, when the sudden loading and locking of guns caught his attention. Slowly he raised his hands in the air; the Master did the same with that same snide smile. Slowly they began to follow her out.

"Oh!" the Doctor suddenly exclaimed, pausing. From inside his jacket he pulled out his sonic screw driver and pointed it at the Dalek. There was a whir and the remains of the creature were propelled to a nearby hatch, the air lock. Another setting opened and shut the air lock, Dalek secured inside. Another jettisoned it into space. The whole process had taken about three seconds. "Now we can go," he said smiling benignly.

There were led through a maze of corridors to exactly the same room he'd interrogated Sharon in, it was annoying to be on the other side of the table. Another chair was brought in for the Master. He sat immediately, feet up on the table and began to drum his fingers in a very familiar rhythm. The Doctor glared at him, the Master wouldn't hypnotize under his watch. Adama, Roslin, Tigh and the others seated themsevles across from the two aliens.

"What exactly was that?" Roslin asked, taking off her glasses and leaning forward. She was actually quite pretty without her glasses.

"A Dalek," the Doctor replied easily.

"It recognised you," she told him. "It mentioned a war and referenced you personally by name."

"That it did," the Master replied for him blandly.

"How did it know you?" This seemed to be the question of the hour, the fleet had never faced such a foe before after all.

"Of course it knew him!" the Master crowed, "There wasn't a Dalek in existence that didn't know his name! He was the great interferer they could never stop! He thwarted them at every turn and wiped their race out of the sky. He was one of our greatest generals!" The Master was now beyond incredulous.

"You were a soldier?" asked Tigh, shocked that one so skinny could actually fight.

"We both were," the Doctor answered before the Master could. "I fought on the front lines at the loss of the Cruciform, Arcadia and countless other battles. I watched the creator of the Daleks fly into the jaws of the Nightmare Child. Maybe one day I'll be able to live with that." There was a haunted look in his brown eyes, a cold empty wasteland that stretched on forever.

"What is the 'Time War'?" Adama shifted so he too was leaning forward.

"It was talking about the last great Time War fought between our two species," he replied rubbing his chin and scratching his hair.

"What do you mean by Time War? What exactly does that mean?" Roslin asked crossing her legs.

The Master cocked his head and his eyes flicked to the Doctor, "you haven't told them anything have you? Nothing at all." He actually began laughing, "Trying to pretend it didn't happen?"

"Shut up," the Doctor said shortly. It wasn't his fault he was not ginger and rude. He looked to Roslin, "our people were called the Time Lords and we were exactly what we sounded like. One of the oldest races in the universe with the power to traverse time and space as you would walk down a corridor. We kept an eye on time lines, realities and boundaries."

"We were supposed to be the wisest of races," the Master chuckled. "We were cowards afraid of change."

The Doctor coughed and the Master went silent, thankfully. He looked at the ceiling wistfully, "in a Time War time itself becomes the weapon. Preemptive strikes, Time Looping, Time Locking, Paradoxing. Anything and everything. Though I've never approved of paradox machines," he glared at the Master. "The Time War the Dalek spoke of was the last war we ever fought, Time Lords and Daleks clashed for the whole of creation."

"Who won?" asked Lee Adama with interest.

"No one did, we all lost in the end." The Doctor looked at the floor.

"From what I hear," the Master interrupted, "you've bitten off more than you can chew and the Cylons nuked most of your planet. Fifty thousand survivors fleeing like cowards into the night." The humans around them stiffened at the insult but the Master ignored them. "Madam President," he said in a mirthless tone, "you are lucky. You have survivors."

"How the frack is this lucky?" barked Tigh.

"Even at the end of it all humans still survive, the greatest survivors in the universe!" The Master continued as the Doctor remained silent. "You take such things for granted. Ladies and gentlemen of the primitive species known as humans, you are looking at the last Time Lords in existence. In order to save every race in the universe and creation itself the Time Lords destroyed themselves. Millions of ships burned – ours and theirs. Our entire planet became a rotted husk. Everyone we'd ever known, everyone we'd ever loved. Well everyone he'd loved," he gestured to the Doctor, "I never loved really. But can you imagine that level of destruction?" He turned to the Doctor, "you must have felt like a god," he told him.

There was a stunned silence. How could anyone say anything to that?

"So, they're all dead?" Roslin was stunned.

"Bites when you meet someone who's had it worse than you, huh? The Doctor here doesn't like to tell people what happened to Gallifrey, he likes to pretend none of it happened." The Master stood and stretched.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she replied.

"Don't worry," the Doctor murmured. "It happened more than four hundred years ago now. Or is yet to happen. Time heals all wounds. Eventually."

"Four hundred years? Wait, you said you were nine hundred and three!" said one of the guards.

"We're time travelers. We live a long time," the Master smirked.

"Time travelers?"

"Well it is sort of implied in the name 'Time Lord', don't you think?"

"So who exactly are you in the scheme of things?" It didn't look like the information had affected Adama at all.

The Master grinned, he out right grinned. "I'm the Master and I'm a psychopath," he said glibly, "and this is my jailor. I should have died awhile back but this one kept me alive, stimulated a regeneration cycle through sheer will," he continued gesturing to the Doctor. "This suppresses my more violent tendencies, makes the Drums quiet," he lifted a wrist and rattled the bracelet on it in demonstration.

The Doctor leaned on his elbows, "he's mad," he explained. "As the last of our race it is my job to care for him, to watch him, to ensure our continued survival. I'm the Doctor and I travel really, just moving around with nowhere to go."

"What did he do?" asked Baltar, they'd entirely forgotten he was there.

"He killed half of the human race in an alternate time line," the Doctor told him as the Master grinned. "Not to mention other things here and there." There was a mildly shocked silence.

There was a silence in which the Master's smirk widened, "if it helps I hate Daleks more than I hate you and that's why you're all still alive," he told them. "Didn't the Face of Boe call you the Lonely God?" the Master asked the Doctor suddenly, raising an eyebrow.

"Our ship, well my ship, decided to dump us here. There's something she finds interesting and thinks we should look at. With the Daleks here I think I know what it is," he completely ignored the Master.

"Your ship decided?"

"She's alive, all of them were. She's called the TARDIS, Time And Relative Dimension In Space. She's the last of her kind too, TARDIS were grown on Gallifrey and that's all gone now," the Doctor spoke sadly and closed his eyes briefly.

"Your ship's alive?"

The Master rolled his eyes.

"But!" the Doctor suddenly exclaimed, "What really interests me is this." He removed the object the Dalek had been scanning from his pocket and put it on the table.

"Where'd you get that?" Baltar exclaimed.

"Pockets," the Doctor explained, "bigger on the inside."

"What is it?"

"That is a very good question," the Doctor hummed and pulled out his sonic screw driver and began examining it closely. After a moment he stopped, paused and put on his glasses. He fiddled with frayed wires and poked at a complicated circuit board. He turned it over in his hands, squinting. "It can't be," he whispered after a moment.

"Let me see," the Master took it from his hands and looked at it himself. His eyes widened suddenly.

"What is it?" Baltar repeated and everyone sense the importance of that question.

The Doctor carefully took it back and held it up to the light almost reverently. "It's a Chameleon Arch," he said after a moment.

----

What do you think? He's back people and he's madder than ever! Don't we just love him? The Master is one of my fave characters in the new series and I just wanted to use him!

So what do you think? (same question as always XD)

Please R&R! Pity me and my war with my sunburn! Reviews make everything better!

- D


	14. Chameleon Arch

Hey there! Me again! This took ages to wack out but you know me. I'm going on hols soon with some friends of mine (next monday) so I'm trying to finish the story before then! It'll be a task but I'll manage.

Thanks for the sunburn sympathy, I really appreciate it :)

Thanks also for all the reviews! They've really cheered me up!

**Dur'id the Druid****:** There is only one watch. Kara has it, is that what you meant?

**Innogen****:** I think you're right! I'm so excited! Less excited about Tennant leaving but I'll manage. Glad you like the Master too!

**ironyheartsap** : You bet!

**not-for-lack-of-trying:** thanks for the continued support!

Anyway on witht he show!

Allons-y

-----

"_What is it?" Baltar repeated and everyone sense the importance of that question._

_The Doctor carefully took it back and held it up to the light almost reverently. "It's a Chameleon Arch," he said after a moment._

**Chapter Fourteen: Chameleon Arch**

"What is a Chameleon Arch exactly? More alien technology I take it?" Baltar asked, subconsciously reaching out to take it.

"It's impossible for a start," the Doctor said, still turning it over out of Baltar's reach. "But I like impossible!" He looked up at them with a mixed expression and a lopsided grin, "a Chameleon Arch was an invention our people. Remember I told you that our ships are designed to blend in and not be noticed? Well actually I told Kara that but comment still stands. The Arch does the same thing, it changes the form of the host to hide him from detection."

"It's the last line of defence," the Master added glaring at the thing.

"What exactly does it do? You made short work of that Dalek thing, what do you need to hide from?" Lee Adama asked, cocking his head and moving to stand in the corner thoughtfully.

"The problem is there is never just one Dalek, there are always more. It was difficult enough to kill one. Imagine if there were thousands," the Doctor said, watching their eyes widen. "Daleks can track Time Lords across the entire universe if they really, really want to and that is a dangerous thing. A Chameleon Arch is used for situation like that. They stop us being Time Lords by rewriting our entire biology and installing a new personality. Creates a new person in essence." The Doctor put the Arch down slowly and scooted back, gazing at it steadily.

"It rewrites your biology? As in every cell? That's a work of genius!" Baltar exclaimed.

"Well, we are Time Lords. We're meant to be the wisest beings in the universe," the Master snapped.

"Rewriting every cell," Baltar mused, "it would involve a complete structural break down. Cell by cell and atom by atom. Doesn't that hurt?"

"Ripping apart your biology? Of course it does. Never felt anything like it," the Doctor replied, yawning.

"You've done it?" Baltar leaned forward, every inch the scientist for the greasy hair and grubby white coat. He was in awe of someone so much smarter than him.

"Both of us have. Problem is this one has been used, albeit a long time ago. It's very presence hints the impossible," The Doctor pinched his nose and closed his eyes. "A Chameleon Arch is only found in a TARDIS and from the look of this one it's been used in the last five or so decades. It also looks fairly new which indicates the TARDIS it was attached to was very young. Probably not even a century old. That means it survived the Time War. That's impossible!" The Doctor stood and began to pace. He stared into the reflections on the metal walls thoughtfully. Looking at the reflected semicircle of commanding officers and officials behind them.

"Also, judging from the state of that thing," the Master interjected, "I'd say that something went wrong, badly wrong. Look at it! I doubt the transfer was even complete."

The Doctor suddenly stopped. "All these things," he said slowly. "So many things."

"Things?" Roslin asked, confused. It was like they were caught up in something bigger than themselves and she'd never really believed there was anything in the universe bigger than their war. But here they were, small humans standing before ancient creatures that exuded wisdom and danger. They were facing things that none of the gods had ever spoken of. She was simply overwhelmed with it all.

"It's all connected. Everything! We've been blind! So very, very blind and thick. So _thick_!" He threw his hands up and carded fingers through his hair as he feverishly paced to and fro. "Ugh! My head! My head!"

They watched him move frantically as his mind put things together faster than they ever could.

"Every time we use a Chameleon Arch we appoint a keeper to awaken us at the appropriate time, they open the watch, the container of our original self, and reveal it to us to restore us to Time Lord status," he told them, gesturing randomly as he spoke. "This Arch has been used and I would assume that, as tradition dictates, the user would have appointed a keeper to guard his watch, the most sacred thing he'd ever make. Now what on this ship told us it was looking for the keeper?" His brown eyes swept over them watching realisation dawn on their features.

"The cat?" asked Tigh incredulously.

"You said it was a 'cytronian'" Baltar confirmed.

"It isn't a cytronian," the Master disagreed, "he always knew that. Based on the design maybe but that thing was constructed for a specific purpose. Initially a companion but now I'll bet it's become the keeper."

"That thing fell out of the vent where you found it," Lee Adama said, suddenly realising, his eyes widening.

"If the Arch is here it is highly likely that a TARDIS is also here, a TARDIS with a working Chameleon Circuit. They're covered in perception filters, something even we wouldn't look twice at. It's truly brilliant! When did you say you found the Lost Angel and the Demons?" the Doctor turned suddenly to Sharon, gazing intently.

"Just after we finished the first war with the humans," she confirmed, confused.

"About four decades ago?"

"Yes?"

"And you say the Lost Angel registered as Cylon but not Cylon?" There was a tenseness in his tone and he was literally vibrating with excitement, his voice getting louder and louder.

"Yes," Sharon replied slowly.

"And is he always sedated? To get cleaner 'prophecies'?" the Doctor continued, ghosting forward until he was directly facing her, inches from her. No one moved. Even the Master was paying rapt attention.

"Yes, he spoke more clearly. He talked of the Vortex and falling," she trailed off uncertainly.

Everyone jumped when the Doctor suddenly exclaimed; "_HA!_ Molto bene!" and a huge grin plastered across his face. "Your Lost Angel," he continued, "isn't a Lost Angel at all, he's a Time Lord fleeing for his life. Forty years ago this Arch was used and you found the Angel. He picked a species which didn't decay and wither, he was planning to hide for a long, long time." He rubbed his hands together and went to move to the door.

"Why is his being sedated important?" asked Helo curiously.

"When a hidden Time Lord dreams they remember their true selves, this is exaggerated by the fact that the Chameleon process seems to have been interrupted. Put that together with the fact that this time line has been sped up by ten years and the new elements introduced and you have a Time Lord subtly manipulating time to get what he wants! Better yet it means another one of us _survived!_ Someone actually survived!" He was almost dancing.

"And what does he want?" There was Adama again, the voice of reason.

The Doctor shrugged, "I don't know yet. Makes things more exciting don't you think? One thing is certain; we need to get on that ship! Not to mention sort out the Daleks on the other ship." He pulled the Master on his feet and dusted off his white shirt. He needed to take him back to the TARDIS after all.

"Wait just a second," Tigh growled and the two aliens spun to face him, one smirking and one beaming. "How do you plan to do that?"

"Well my ship can take us there pretty quickly," the Doctor said easily.

"Right inside the Cylon base star and resurrection ship where this supposed Lost Angel is?" Tigh licked his lips and narrowed his eyes.

"I'd say so," the Doctor was no longer paying attention.

"It can penetrate their defences without even going into battle?" Tigh asked carefully.

The Doctor's head snapped up and his eyes became cold. "I should have known," he sighed. "No, you cannot use my ship to harm, maim or otherwise hurt the Cylon fleet." Best to nip a rose in the bud so to speak.

"You speak like you have a choice," Lee Adama chuckled, "we outnumber you fifty thousand to two. You could end our war!" He was looking at those either side of him.

"We are prepared to take your technology by force if necessary," Roslin added, standing.

The Master actually laughed in their faces. "Hm, very amusing," he sniggered, for the first time his madness was showing. There was a wildness in his eyes that worried them.

"Force does not scare me, Saul Tigh," the Doctor replied, smiling coldly. But even that smile was beginning to fade.

"Oh really," the commanding officer smirked.

The Doctor walked up to him swiftly and looked him straight in the eye, well slightly above as he was taller. Suddenly, to Tigh, he seemed to grow to a hundred feet tall. "You do not scare me," he enunciated slowly, his voice terribly cool. "I have seen the destruction of everything and hurled down powers far greater than can imagine. I have fought on the front line of the fiercest battle in the universe and crippled empires. The Daleks called me the Oncoming Storm because I do not stop, I do not cease. I have seen false gods and bad gods and demi-gods and would-be-gods. And I have been their destruction. I have faced death and the end of all things and I am still breathing. So, Saul Tigh, someone so small as you, so scared as you and so human as you does not scare me!" He was literally shouting in Tigh's face.

"Been awhile since I seen you that angry," the Master chuckled, "must have something to do with leaving R-"

"Shut up," the Doctor snarled. He turned back to the shocked command, "one of my species could still be alive after all this time. You will not stand in my way of saving them." He swept out the room, forgetting the Master completely.

There was more stunned silence. "You know," the Master said after a moment, drawing all the attention to him. "I once wondered why he ran away. Why he who had fought with things called gods and demons had fled. A young alien Hunter, formerly of the Family of Blood asked the same thing. Funny, we reached the same conclusion." He looked to the ground and shook his head, laughing to himself.

"What was that?" Roslin asked, still watching the door where the Doctor had exited.

"He was being kind," the Master said softly. That certainly got attention. He looked them dead in the eyes, "I killed millions, ran from our war, sided against our homeworld and tortured him. He forgave me. He forgave me! And that hurts worse than any other punishment he could have given. But he is crueller in a way, he let me live. Let me live in his mercy forever." He began to walk away, "advice from someone who's done it. Don't make him angry. It's as he said. He's the Oncoming Storm and you can't stop him. Not even the Drums can stop him."

He walked out of the room leaving silence in his wake.

----

That's right, Doctor! You get angry at Tigh! Sorry this is pent up frustration at Saul Tigh in the series, it's what I wish I could have said to him! grr. I also thought the lines from Satan's Pit were appropriate...

Anyway, what did you think?

Please review! It really helps! I'm also starting a new series of one shots based in the Doctor Who world so look out for them!

Love you all!

- D


	15. Chickens and Watches

Hey there! Wasn't that quick? I'm on a roll! We'll see how long it lasts...

Anywho, I'm fairly happy with this chapter so I hope you likes it! not for lack of trying and FireSenshi2 glad you like it! Your words really made my day!

Well enjoy as always!

Allons-y!

----

**Chapter Fifteen: Chickens and Watches  
**

The Doctor flitted through the hangar amidst the confused staff, picking up odd sorts of parts. Cables and wires that seemed unconnected. He laid them out on the floor in a long line, transistors, fribulators, tiamdemic resistors and power cells. He examined each one closely, occasionally tossing one deemed unfit away into a corner. He'd taken off his long coat and even his jacket and tie. They lay similarly discarded beside him. His white shirt had the sleeves rolled up to the arms so they wouldn't get in the way while he worked.

Finally he sat cross legged on the floor next to a Viper and began to work. The whir of his sonic screwdriver was almost constant. He never stopped, he didn't sleep and he didn't eat. He just sat there and built whatever he was building under the watchful eye of the nearby marines. Word had spread of his unusual genetics and everyone else tended to give him a wide birth. Every so often he ran a hand through his already uncontrollable hair, making it stick up even more. Overall he had the look of a man who had no time. Ironic that he was a Time Lord.

Baltar approached him slowly as sparks sputtered and every so often electrical charges leapt to the nearby sheets of metal. He hadn't slept well. He couldn't sleep. Not with a man so intelligent as the Doctor right next door and working. He'd come to watch but couldn't help gravitating closer. The man was almost magnetic. "What are you making?" he asked tentatively, sweeping greasy hair out of his eyes.

The Doctor looked up surprised, "Oh, didn't see you there. I'm making a disruptor detector, should find our Cylon friends, wherever they've gone," he replied. His eyes dropped back to the circuitry in his hands and fingers nimbly twisted wires together.

"You know, it used to be that used words others didn't understand until you came along," Baltar mused, moving to sit next to him. He shook his head as he felt _her_ trying get through again. He had more important things to do.

"Pardon," the Doctor looked at him again, confused this time.

Baltar laughed, "what do you mean by 'disruptor detector'?"

"Oh! Right! Sorry," the Doctor put it down as he began to babble. "I've made one of these before actually, in 1969 on Earth. Rubbish year, don't ever go there. It's better known as the Timey Wimey Detector, goes ding when there's stuff." He spoke as if that explained everything. He rolled his shoulders tiredly and they cracked with stress.

"And it can find them? The cylons?" Baltar said suspiciously, looking at the disarray of parts.

"Course it can now I've ramped it up, it could detect a time disruption two galaxies away and I doubt they've got that far. Not before the Daleks catch them at any rate. It could also boil an egg at thirty paces, not great when in a room full of chickens, let me tell you. You don't have any chickens on board do you?" he asked seriously. The Doctor stood and strode away before he could answer over to another small collection of parts, sifting through them.

Baltar shook his head slowly, not quite knowing what to make of that statement.

"Good, good. Wouldn't want any accidents would we? Wouldn't want to annoy our dear president more than I already have. Ah ha!" he exclaimed as he picked up a seemingly unimportant cog, turning it over in his hands as he hurriedly returned to the mess of wires he was assembling in a small metal box.

"Where's your friend gone?" Baltar looked around for the other thin man in a suit.

"Back to the TARDIS," the Doctor replied shortly. "That's the only safe place for him."

"Maybe it would've been kinder to kill him," Baltar continued, unaware of how sharply the Doctor turned to look at him. "Death is kinder than a life of shame and imprisonment," he whispered.

The Doctor paused, looking him up and down with a critical eye. "And you would know about that?"

"Yes," Baltar got a far away look in his eyes and became very still suddenly.

"You know, you should really tell someone about that," the Doctor commented, returning to his work.

"About what?" Baltar jerked to look at him.

Cool eyes met his gaze, " you know what I mean, Gaius Baltar. A secret like that will eat you from the inside. In fact I think it already is. It will only be more terrible when they find our," he tone softened to one of pity.

Gaius Baltar did not want pity. Certainly not from an alien! "I haven't done anything," he retorted.

"If you say so," the Doctor agree blithely. "You should stop listening to her too."

"To who?" Baltar asked nervously.

"You know who. I can actually see her you know." He nodded with his head to where the Six that had only been visible to Baltar watched them, sitting on a box and swinging her legs idly. Her eyes widened at being noticed and she vanished. The Doctor raised an eyebrow but continued working.

"No I don't." There was that human defiance.

"You aren't mad if I can see her too."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" And again it seemed. Though that tone seemed to be bordering on hysteria.

"You know what? Honest logic is wasted on you," the Doctor huffed as he screwed on another part, a strange looking dish. "Humanity, lovely, creative and stubbornly thick. But that's what makes you so alive I suppose." He had a goofy smile on his face that indicated it was all in good humour.

There were a few more moments of silence as Baltar watched the Doctor. "Do you have a proper name?" he asked after a moment.

"Sure I do. The Doctor," the alien said easily, not even looking at him. He continued to work feverishly.

"Other than 'the Doctor' I mean. It can't just be 'the Doctor'. What did your parents call you?" There was that curious scientist again.

The Doctor paused to put on his glasses as he began working on more intricate circuitry, after a moment his placed a magnifying lens attached to a piece of wire over the right side of the frame. "The Doctor," he replied after a moment. "What's in a name anyway? It's just a series of hollow titles. Though I suppose not if you ask the carianites."

"Your parents called you the Doctor?"

"Not really, but you wouldn't be able to pronounce my true name. Even with the TARDIS helping translate for you," the Doctor told him.

"Really?"

"Nah, I'm joshing you," the Doctor sniggered, glancing sideways at him. "Truth is I've almost forgotten it, it's been so long. I picked 'the Doctor' so I'm the Doctor, no more to it. Just the Doctor." He craned his head back to avoid a sudden spurt of sparks and oil.

"You picked it? You get to choose your name?" Baltar was refraining from taking his notebook out and taking notes.

"Yes, course we do. Upon entering the Academy on our homeworld we're taken to pass initiation, after that we pick the name we will keep for the rest of our lives. Or rather the title. We can pick up nicknames on the way too," the Doctor shrugged, throwing down a tool in favour of another.

"What do you do in initiation?"

The Doctor looked at him with a smile, "full of questions aren't you? Well I do like a curious mind and your mind certainly is a curious one. Well, if you really want to know we stare into the Untempered Schism and our reaction tells our social class – well sort of. Can you pass me that?" he asked pointing to a strange device next to his coat. It was a long remote covered in buttons.

Baltar reached out for it automatically and handed it over, "What is the Untempered Schism?"

"A gap in the fabric of reality, you can see the Time Vortex through it and every Time Lord is connected to it through birth. You gaze and the raw power of time and space at only eight years old – see all that was, is and could be for the first time," the Doctor paused, gazing into the distance, seeing but not seeing. "It's a sense that never goes away."

"You have gaps in reality?" Baltar asked, shocked. He'd never thought such a thing was possible. Then again he'd never thought aliens were possible.

"Everywhere has gaps in reality – well not in reality more like in time. The occasional rift and such. There's one on Earth in fact. I use it to refuel the TARDIS on occasion," the Doctor replied conversationally.

"And through it you gain an awareness of time? Like a sixth sense? That's amazing! What does it look like?" Baltar was never more eager for knowledge. He'd forgotten any fear he'd had of the man. It was strange, like he instinctively trusted him and Gaius Baltar had made it his policy not to trust anyone. That was in pieces now.

"A seventh sense actually. I'm telepathic too, that's my sixth sense. It's hard to explain, it's like staring into a river but not. You see everything and nothing, time isn't what people think. We can tell when someone's changed things in a way they shouldn't be changed, for example this time line is in a hurry because someone sped it up," the Doctor said as he savagely hit the device on the ground. "Come on! Work you stupid thing!"

"You have seven senses?" Baltar boggled momentarily. "You said something happens when you see the Schism, what is it?"

The Doctor leaned back on his hands and gazed up thoughtfully, "well, there are three primary reactions and I guess they state how we live our lives in a way, though I personally like to think things are not so restricted. We stare and stare and stare and some people are inspired by it, some run from it and some go mad because of it." He went quiet and Baltar could tell he was remembering seeing it himself despite that being centuries ago.

"How does that define you?"

"Well, those who went mad tended to be better warriors. Those who were inspired tended to be intelligencia, coming up with great poetry or mechanical wonders and so on. Those who ran tended to be scouts, the most defiant, free spirited and wild you would say. The lonely wanderers," he muttered the end sentence as he returned to tinkering.

"What did you do?" Baltar asked. Obviously the man had been inspired considering how intelligent he was.

"Oh, I ran away," the Doctor stated as if it were obvious, "I never stopped. I was terrified!" He shook his head.

Baltar stared, he seemed to be doing that a lot when this man was concerned. This man who was so intelligent beyond human ability was not considered to be among the intelligencia? Surely that was impossible! "You were rebellious?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh yes, drove them mad," the Doctor laughed. "But stereotypes aren't everything." He suddenly stood and deliberately dropped the device to the ground. It landed with a clatter and lay still. "Come on!" he bellowed as he kicked it hard. There was a strange whiring and what sounded like fans turning on before the lights on the box came alive and the dial began to spin and beep.

"Not to cut our conversation short, Doctor Baltar, but I have a fleet to find," the Doctor said, scooping up the device and beginning to point it in random directions. When the beeping became louder and faster he exclaimed happily, "here we are! Allons-y!" He ran off out of the hangar leaving Baltar and a handful of mechanics to stare after him.

----

Thrace found herself in the pilots' quarters. It was a dismal place, a true soldier's barracks filled with dry green linen, rectangular metal bunks and square grey chairs. Despite attempts to make the place cheery, the odd picture here and colourful drawing there, it still held an air of depression about it. Something that hinted a great tone of sadness despite all the laughter it had seen over the decades.

She sat in her bunk, the one right at the end and out the way. She liked it like that, no one to intrude upon her space. She was in a simple black tank top and standard issue green cargo trousers. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her hands cradled something close to her heart. Even with her eyes closed she could hear the whispers. Like silk they caressed her mind, never shouting, never pressing. Just there. Even within her pocket she could still hear it.

"_Hiding, hiding in the dark and the quiet. Sleeping in a cold metal shell. Just waiting,_" it murmured.

The strange thing was she knew she wasn't made. Hearing voices was usually the first sign but there was this kind of certainty. A certainty she couldn't place. The voices were real, or rather the voice was real, and it needed her.

"What do I do?" she asked it, staring hard at the closed contraption.

"_Keep me safe, keep me hidden,_" it replied as it always had.

"From what?"

"_From the metal voices in the dark._"

"But what does that mean? How can I trust you?" she asked desperately as her well honed fighting instincts seemed to fight against trusting something strange, as they always had. Yet there was a greater part of her that knew this was safe, a part that had whispered dreams to her her whole life. Dreams that always came true.

"_Alone?_"

"What?" Now she was really confused.

"_Alone?_" it asked more insistently.

"Oh, in the room? Yeah, the others are in mess," she said slowly.

"_Open,_" it commanded, stronger than before.

"What?" she asked again, feeling stupid.

"_Trip the catch and see the insides,_" it seemed almost exasperated.

As if possessed she slowly pressed a thumb to the button on the top of the circular device. The was a click at the metal face that she noted was on hinges on the front of the device, the face covered in intricate geometric designs, flipped down and open. She wasn't prepared for what happened next. Golden light poured in spirals from the device before her, bathing her face and flooding into her eyes and soul. With the flow the whispers became stronger than ever.

As if she was being shown a film images flashed before her eyes. Again she saw the twin suns but they were clearer, higher and brighter than ever before. In her ears were the sounds gentle song and the laughter of ages. The grass under her feet was red and long, it swayed in an unseen breeze. She could see the person inside the watch, could feel him. It was undoubtedly a 'him' and he was young, younger than her and yet older than her. She could feel the beginning of the flames, the fear and-

She snapped the watch closed. It was a watch. She knew that now. A fob watch.

"You're all alone," she said sadly. "Desperately searching for others of your kind. A lonely little boy, lonelier now than ever." It broke her heart and she didn't even know why. She could trust this thing because its plight was not so unlike her own.

"Who's lonely?" a familiar voice called and, startled she looked up into the smiling face of Lee Adama.

"It's nothing," she said hastily, stuffing the watch into her pocket.

"What's that?" he smiled, swiping jokingly for it.

"Nothing," she replied icily, expression cold.

"Alright," he huffed, backing off offended.

"What do you want anyway?" she asked, swivelling so her feet hung off the bed.

"Just wanted to know what you thought of the new crew," he replied as he grabbed a metal chair and moved to sit across from her. She noticed he was dressed as informally as she was, both of them were off duty. Strange.

"New crew?"

"The aliens."

"Oh, the Doctor and that other psycho? They're alright I guess, nothing special," she shrugged.

"Kara, they're aliens. I think that makes them pretty special. You really think they're aliens though?" he had a thoughtful looking his face and was fiddling with his watch. That was a gesture that always implied deep thinking with Lee.

"Yeah, I do. Baltar's scan said so didn't it?" She leaned forward on her knees tiredly.

"Since when do you believe Baltar?" Lee snorted, crossing his hands behind his head and looking up.

"It's not that," she replied uneasily, running a hand through her loose hair.

"Then what is it?"

She couldn't tell him about the watch, she didn't know why but she just _couldn't_. She could tell him about the other stuff though. "It's a feeling," she told him.

"Not one of your 'feelings'," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"Hey," she exclaimed, offended. "They got us here didn't they? They found us food and water didn't they?"

"You're trusting them on a hunch?" he asked incredulously.

"They said they knew Earth, well the Doctor did, and there's no reason for them to lie," she made a dismissive gesture again.

"I don't like the other one though, not the Doctor, that other guy," Lee grumbled.

"I don't either but the Doctor's watching him and _him_ I trust," Kara moved to stand.

"Why?" Lee asked following her.

"I don't know. It might be the fact that every time a gun is fired, every time we fly out and every battle there's this look of disgust on his face."

"Disgust for us?" Lee was now curious.

"No, it's more like a disgust for war. He's a true pacifist and that, in my books, makes him far less dangerous than every other person on this fleet. Including Roslin," she said, stretching and moving to leave the room. Claptrap, who'd been curled quietly and secretly on her bed, rose to follow her.

"Where'd that come from?" Lee asked, pointing to the small creature.

"Dunno, he just started following me awhile back," Kara told him as she left, effectively ending the conversation.

Meanwhile the opening of the watch had had quite a different affect on the discussed aliens. The Master who had been quietly reading in the TARDIS confined to his room looked up, eyes wide with shock. Slowly he got to his feet. The Doctor who had been triangulating the position of the cylon fleet also looked up, eyes focused and gazing. He stopped in the middle of a sentence.

"Doctor?" asked Lieutenant Gaeta, the officer assigned to help him.

He turned to the man and a wide grin split his face, "it's on this ship," he said with barely contained glee.

----

It was time for some chitchat from someone who wasn't the Doctor I felt. What do you think? Did I pull it off okay? I'm eager to know since I gave up sleep to write this one. Who needs to sleep when they have work in the morning? Feh!

Cookies as always for reviewers!

Love you all!

- D


	16. The Watch

Well here I am again! I have a chapter for you just before I zip off to France as promised! I hope you like the new developments and all that! Well I just hope you like it in general and thanks for the continued support.

**Not-for-lack-of-trying: **I am to please. I didn't realise it was less than 24 hours until you told me. My fastest update yet! I can only hope this compensates for being away for eight days...sorry....

**BattlestarCommander:** What do you mean by TOS? I have no idea what that is...It's sort of an AU of BSG in a way but with the sorta same result. By and half its different because I didn't like the way BSG2003 ended. It was unsatisfactory and largely silly. I made the AU because the idea was cool, don't worry most of it fits. I think. Also the last time I watched BSG was in January so I don't remember all of it completely, I rewatch when I can or read Wikipedia and that's why some of the facts are a bit off. But what can I say? It's a long ass series and there are only so many hours in the day.

The reason why everyone has British accents in Doctor Who is that it is made and produced in Britain so the actors are highly likely to be British, Irish or Scottish - they do have Captain Jack so there is a bit of American in there. There's not a planet of British people (more's the pity that would _ROCK_...sorry but can you imagine five o'clock tea time enforced planet wide? Amazing!) its just the acting availability.

And the Police Box is camoflage - the TARDIS has a circuit designed to blend in with the surrounding area so they can park it in the middle of the street and no one goes '_OMG A HUGE ASS SHIP!_' and panics. They are time travellers and that would get in the way. The Doctor's is broken so it stays as a police box from the 1960s as that is one of the first places the Doctor landed and he can't be bothered to fix it.

If Doctor Who moved to the US it wouldn't be Doctor Who any more would it? It would be a bit strange because all the humour is very British and I don't think I'd like it if it were based in the US - it would just be wrong. But that's just me. It's also very unlikely to move to the US as it's owned by the BBC (British Broadcasting Company).

I hope I answered everything. Any more questions just feel free to ask!

Anywho! On with the show!

-----

"_Doctor?" asked Lieutenant Gaeta, the officer assigned to help him._

_He turned to the man and a wide grin split his face, "it's on this ship," he said with barely contained glee._

**Chapter Sixteen: The Watch**

In a matter of minutes the Battlestar was a flurry of movement and planning as the Doctor confirmed the coordinates of the cylon fleet. He had agreed, for the sake of argument, to allow the human Raptors and a few Vipers to accompany him to the Base Star. What they'd think of a flying blue box he honestly didn't know. All that mattered is that now he knew where he was going. What concerned him more was the fact that he didn't know where the Daleks were. That was a very worrying thought indeed.

The squads were chosen and everything seemed planned when one singular emergency changed everything. The Doctor was just talking them through the finer points of his Timey Wimey Detector, whether they wanted to be told or not, when a soldier suddenly called for their attention. He was thin, tall and almost unnoticeable. Just one of those people that did a vital job but was never noticed.

"Admiral, sir," he called. "We're picking an unidentified wireless message, encrypted."

"Is it from within the fleet?" Adama asked, moving to stand beside him.

"It's not showing colonial recognition codes, sir," the soldier told him, puzzled. "It is operating on colonial frequency."

"May I?" the Doctor asked as he moved behind the soldier and put on his glasses. He leaned forward and examined the frequency closely. He then closed his eyes in thought and seemed to be counting off on his fingers. "Cylon in origin," he told them after a moment.

"How did you know that?" Tigh asked quickly.

"Length of wave by distance of travel by delta factors divided with recognition codes and standard primes," the Doctor told them. "More or less anyway."

"Are you sure?" Adama glanced at him thoughtfully.

"Positive, I'm not wrong often. Well not very often. Only occasionally. Even then it's really small and barely noticeable," he babbled.

"What if it's that jamming signal they used before?" the soldier asked, turning to look at his commander.

"Not on an openwave wireless," the Doctor replied before Adama could. "All jamming signals that you'd be familiar with operate on a subwave frequency, undetectable and layered with overriding subroutines. They'd only become visible when broadcast on an enormous scale." He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth slightly.

"To think of it," Baltar mused, "that did happen in the attack on Caprica. We were losing ships on the fringes, almost like a test run, but when the signal was used on the fleet it became far more visible." He nodded to himself.

"What do you advise?" They all looked to the Doctor.

"Me? Advising already?" the Doctor smiled at them, well grinned really. "I'd advise you patch it through. It can't damage your technology at the moment and I'd like to know what the Cylons have to say. That last message they sent wasn't exactly positive was it?"

Adama nodded to the soldier and slowly he pushed down a large green button his panel. It wasn't a threatening red button but it would do.

There was a crackle of static before voices began to come through, panic was evident. "This is Base Star Seven, identify yourself. I repeat, identify yourself," shouted a woman's voice.

"You know who the frack we are, we've been at war for forty years," growled Tigh. He got a reproving look from Adama.

"Thank God it's you," she breathed actually relieved. "We feared they'd taken your ship as well."

"Who had?" the Doctor asked.

"The Demons," the speaker was having trouble breathing.

"The Daleks you mean. Daleks you carelessly released from a very well built Time Lock," he confirmed.

"How do you know the names of the demons?" The voice was incredulous.

"That isn't important. What is important is why you're hailing you enemy. What do you want from us?" Adama cut in, straightening himself.

"We need your help. They're too strong and all the ships are falling," she was desperate.

"What do you mean?" asked Baltar.

"They're running fully automated ships and are a machine race," the Doctor answered for them, "such a thing is understandable. The Daleks are on a war footing and are geniuses when it comes to technology. My guess is once they took control of a Base Star they assimilated its systems to find out where they were and immediately experimented with reformatting the raiders. Once they'd figured out how to do that they beamed that reformatting signal far and wide and one by one Cylon raiders fell under their control, not to mention cylon battle ships." He took off his glasses and carefully put them in his pockets. He looked at the people around him, "they're doing to the cylons what the cylons did to you but they aren't just killing them. They're stealing them for their own army."

"Yes," breathed the cylon they were speaking too. "We'd assumed they got you too, since you had a Demon aboard with you."

"One solitary Dalek isn't a problem," the Doctor told her, "it's the others I'm more worried about. That is why I'd like to propose a temporary truce."

The room exploded, "you don't have the authority to do that!" barked Tigh.

The Doctor held up a hand to silence him. "If we work together we can defeat them. If not they will use that divide against us. They are masters at war strategy."

Everyone looked to Adama. After a long moment he nodded in agreement with the Doctor. "Will you meet with us in the interest of the survival of both our species?" he asked.

"We will need to find neutral ground," another voice spoke up. A man's.

"Where would that be? On your ship?" Tigh mocked.

"Colonel," Adama said warningly. "We all agree that there are no equal grounds, not any more. I propose since we are fewer in number that the meeting ground be a colonial ship."

There was a murmur of disagreement through the radio but finally the woman overrode, "acceptable. But what of a neutral party? Your prejudice against us is not unknown."

"Neither is yours for us," Roslin said, raising an eyebrow.

The Doctor rolled his eyes; you could've cut the tension with a knife. "Excuse me," he cut in, "would it be acceptable to both parties to use a non-human and non-cylon ambassador as a neutral party? Since I have little to do with your conflict and no actual interest in interfering with it, it makes the most sense that I form a basis for neutral grounds." He put his hands in his pockets and beamed happily.

There was a long pause, "that is acceptable," the cylon said at last. "Designate a vessel."

Adama nodded, "we will use the small civilian craft _Wayfarer_ and the meeting will begin in four hours. Each party may only bring five representatives, neutral party not included. Weapons will be disallowed. Do you agree to terms?"

Another heavy, tension drenched pause began. After a long while they spoke again, "We agree to terms." The line disconnected.

Adama turned to Tigh, "evacuate the civilians to the nearest craft and prepare a Raptor to take us," he told him gruffly. Tigh turned an immediately began barking orders. "Let us hope this goes well, Doctor," he said without even looking at the Time Lord. "If it doesn't, on your head be it. So say we all."

----

Tension was a problem for humans, the Doctor decided as he watched the five designated people, Thrace, Adama senior and junior, Tigh and Roslin pace around the meeting room of the civilian craft as they waited for the cylons. He personally didn't understand why everyone couldn't get along. Genocide was disgusting, uncalled for and intolerable. And yet both sides would commit it in an instant. It deeply saddened him. Ah well, he wished he had a banana right about now. Bananas were good. He should always make sure to have one.

He was just contemplating the finer points of recreational maths and how they could be applied to creating the perfect nibbles when the cylons arrived. All of them were human cylons, one blonde, two identical males and two identical females that looked exactly like Sharon. He whistled, it was decent work. A clone race by the look of it but, in order to prevent degeneration, each clone was ever so slightly different. Not so much a human would notice but enough that he did. Maybe it was just one chromosome? One strand of DNA out of thousands? It was very advanced DNA recombination and utterly beautiful.

In the centre of the room was a long metal table around which they began to sit. He was sitting in the middle of both parties naturally. If anything went wrong he'd die first. How wonderful! He tilted his head as they seated themselves. He felt it again. That touch on his mind. A whisper of song. Curious, so curious. He turned to look but it was gone.

"And who are you?" a voice called him back to the present, it was the blonde.

"Oh! I'm the Doctor, neutral party and all that," he smiled happily at them and crossed his legs. "Who are you?"

"I'm from set Six," she said politely.

"You don't get to have individual names? What a downer! I like my name, chose it myself you know. Must be boring, all being called 'Six'. I'm being rude again aren't I? Have been ever since I regenerated, rude and not ginger! I would have liked to have been ginger," he paused, scratching his hair and humming.

The Cylons stared at the sudden splurge of information.

"Ahem," Roslin coughed and all eyes turned to her once more. "We are here to discuss a threat to both our species. Loathe as I am to admit it, we may need your help." The Doctor could see how painful those words actually were for Roslin.

"As we need yours," one of the males grudgingly admitted.

"Here, Doctor, you have the floor. You know these creatures far more than we do. What would you advise we do?" Roslin continued, turning to the man in the pinstripe suit.

"I thought you were in charge?" he asked raising his eyebrows.

She gave him a hard look.

"Okay, okay," he said hastily as he sat up straighter. "Simply put, the 'Demons' are actually called Daleks and they're a race that has perfected ethnic cleansing into an art form. What is curious is that the Dalek I questioned mentioned a fugitive, which implies they were chasing something. From what I've heard from my other cylon sources the Daleks were captured by a prophet of yours called the Lost Angel. So my question is this: has the Lost Angel done anything unusual lately?" He leaned on his elbows casually but his eyes were sharp and focused.

The cylons looked at each other warily, clearly this wasn't what they'd expected. "Yes," said the Six at last. "Before the Angel had had only one repeating prophecy due to his dreaming but more recently he foretold of the coming of a destroyer. We believe this to be the Demons." She spoke to the Doctor; clearly he was the 'man in charge' so to speak. Strange how one single man was achieving what two civilisations had failed to do, civil conversation.

"Hmm," the trilled thoughtfully, gazing upward for a moment. "What was this new prophecy?" They could almost hear the contempt in his words.

"He spoke of one who is the Destroyer of Worlds, he with bring a great fire to burn the darkness," an Eight spoke from the back.

The Doctor huffed in frustration, "well that was lovely and vague," he grumbled. "Anything more specific? Did he name it at all?"

"He called it the Great Wanderer, the Lonely God," the male on the left said.

The Doctor froze for a second.

"Doctor? What's wrong?" Figures the only concern would come from Lee Adama.

"Let me guess," the Doctor said suddenly, "he burns at the centre of time?"

"Yes," said the Six, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Because it's him," they all turned to look at Thrace. "It is isn't it? Your friend said that you were called 'the Lonely God'."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. "I've been called many things but what is more interesting is the actual words of the prophecy. He said that exact phrase? 'Burns at the centre of time'? Exactly?" He glossed over it quickly.

"'And can see the turn of the universe'," the Six completed.

"HA!" he exclaimed. "No wonder it sounded familiar. That's not a prophecy, well not really. It's a psychic recognition and scan. That proves it."

"Proves what?"

"Your prophecy is actually about me," he watched as this put them on edge. "I have been called the destroyer of worlds and the Oncoming Storm but only by one race in particular. The Daleks. They feared me."

"The Master said there wasn't a Dalek that didn't know your name," Lee Adama put in.

"Exactly! Now, I hate to tear apart your prophecy but it's actually copied via psychic probe. It was said about me a very long time ago by a young boy called Timothy Latimer. Ever since I got here I've been feeling a subtle probe in my mind and an even subtler copying of information," he paused for breath musingly. "I believe that your Lost Angel is the one behind it. He wasn't foreseeing me, he was actually seeing me. He's the one who plots your coordinates? Have you ever wondered how?"

"The will of the One God guides him," one the males answered instantly.

"That or a very strong latent psychic talent. But it's more than that, can you detail to me how you found the Lost Angel and the Demons," he leant further forward, this was the important part.

"Our scriptures say that something struck the hull of our biggest ship and broke through in a flash of light. There was confusion and shouting and, by the time we got to the hold there he was. He lay on the floor and the Demons were frozen before him," the Six told them cautiously.

"What colour was the light?"

"It was every colour and no colour, or so the texts say," answered an Eight.

"That's it!" The Doctor began to laugh, "What you saw was the closing of a rift in time itself. You Angel fell through it and the Daleks followed him. That's why they're here at all, must have only just escaped. He was trying to hide himself so he used the Chameleon Arch but due to heavy damage it gave an incomplete process! This is brilliant! Anything else? Are there any other legends?"

"Well it is said by some that he had a companion, a beast with skin like silver," one of the males said slowly. "But its existence is strongly contested as it vanished just after he was revealed."

"And that explains Claptrap! He was here because he was hiding," the Doctor grinned so broadly he thought his face would break in half.

"What exactly are you saying?" asked the Six confused.

"Your Lost Angel is very lost, he's a Time Lord, one of my race and he's four galaxies away from home. He was fleeing a terrible war against the things you would call demons and ended up here. He changed his biology to mimic yours enough for you to accept him and the Daleks to have a hard time finding him. He left a being behind to wake him but the damage was so extensive that a brief hiding period has lasted over forty years. What did you say he controlled?" The Doctor was running a hand excitedly through his hair. He was also pacing fast.

"He's the main processor of the Resurrection Ship. He's wired directly into the system," an Eight said.

"Wait a second, you're attacking our very religion! This is just some human plot," snarled the Six. She wasn't taking this well.

"Would you like me to prove it to you?" the Doctor asked with a smile. They all watched him silently as the cylon slowly nodded, scepticism in her eyes. "Kara Thrace, if I could have the watch in your left pocket please?" he asked without even turning to her.

They all looked to her and she just looked at him shocked. "How did you know I had it?" she asked quietly.

"I can hear it every time you open it," he told her smiling. "I think it's time you gave it to me."

The strange thing was it was time she gave it to him. The watch in her pocket seemed to burn with the urge. Slowly she clasped a hand over its shockingly cold surface before drawing it out and slowly giving it to him. "Why did it speak to me?" she asked.

"That thing speaks to you? Kara you've lost it," Lee Adama chuckled.

The Doctor ignored him, he was wasting his time. "It tuned into the empathic field you were naturally born with with a psycho-neptic engram," he told her blandly.

"An empathic field? That cat-thing said that I had a field of three point-something," she told him curiously. "Does that make me psychic?"

"Yes and no, mostly no. It's more that you have hunches, you can't explain where these hunches came from but they're always there. You've never been wrong about them. Ever. You just know things. You always win card games. That sort of thing," he told her as he took the watch and examined it. He could feel it on the edge of senses.

"That's our Starbuck," growled Tigh.

"But why does it talk?" she asked regardless.

"The talking is actually the concealed personality of the Time Lord," he told her with a smile. "And this is my proof."

"How so?"

"Well, regardless whether you believe it or not. If I use the natural empathic field cylons have to simulate the environment in the watch everyone in this room will be able to see the thoughts of the Time Lord." He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and it buzzed away at the watch. "How about it?" he looked at them all eagerly.

The Six nodded, as did Adama. "Show us."

Deliberately slowly the Doctor pressed down on the catch of the watch and it sprang open. There was a flash of blinding gold light and for a second none of them could feel anything. Anything at all.

The first thing they could feel was the wind in their hair and the first thing they could hear was the soft chime of song. It was soothing and kind. Suddenly they were beneath and enormous sky among rolling hills capped with snow. The grass was deep red and the nearby trees shone with silver leaves. "The sky, look at the sky," exclaimed Roslin pointing. All of them turned to follow her hand and gasped. The sky was burnt orange and in it gleamed two suns, one of which was rising from the south.

"Ah," they heard the Doctor call, "there it is." They turned to see him looking over a hill to something in a valley below. When they joined him they saw a city encased in a huge glass dome. It was full of beautiful white spires reflecting the glowing sunlight. Around it there were floating vehicles and people. They could just about hear voices on the wind.

"Where are we?" asked one of the cylons.

"This is my home planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous," the Doctor replied as he gazed around wistfully. "We're in the mountains of Solace and Solitude on the Continent of Wild Endeavour and that," he pointed to the dome, "is the citadel of the Time Lords."

"It's beautiful," breathed Thrace, reaching to touch the grass.

"You have two suns," commented Baltar.

"Yes, we did. Rising from the south, imagine that," the Doctor sighed. "This is my proof, this image is a memory from the soul inside the watch. The soul of your Lost Angel." He stopped when there was a sudden rumbling and the music abruptly stopped. "Here it comes," he said sadly.

They turned to see an almighty wall of flames coming towards them, destroying everything it touched. They could hear the shrieking of Daleks and screams of people. They shielded themselves as it swept over them. There was no escape. When they opened their eyes there was nothing but dust and blackened earth. The Doctor kicked the dust slightly. "And this is what happened to my planet," he said finally.

"What happened?" asked a cylon incredulously.

"A war the likes of which you have never seen," the Doctor told him shortly.

Abruptly the vision vanished and they were all back in the room around a metal square table. "That proved nothing," one of the cylons said, causing glares from the humans around the table.

"Actually it convinced you that the watch is the genuine artefact. If this Lost Angel is a Time Lord and the watch is revealed to him the original personality will reassert itself and the biology with reincode. If he is not a Time Lord then nothing happens," the Doctor yawned. "You have nothing to lose."

There was a long pause.

"Also," the Doctor continued, "if he is as smart as I think he is, which is highly likely, he will have come up with a plan of attack in order to defeat the Daleks. So I really, really, _really_ need to see him. It would be nice to meet another genius."

"Why do you say that?" This came from Roslin.

"Well he's planned for everything else. He attracted another Time Lord by altering a time line subtly; he left a sentient creature to release him and created a device to cage them in the first place. Not to mention he's using you all for his own benefit to travel across the stars and flee. It honestly wouldn't surprise me. Then again not a lot surprises me. The curse of being so brilliant," he sighed and slumped in a seat. "Not to mention it would be easier to coordinate an attack strategy from the better armed vessel and we are cooperating. So how about it? Wanna let me see him?"

The cylons looked at each other and then at him and then at the crew of Galactica. Finally the Six spoke, "your terms are agreeable. You will be allowed a small platoon of soldiers but all will be searched. We can take no risks with the Resurrection Ship."

The humans were shocked. One man in an instant had patched up half a century of war. If temporarily.

"Thank you," the Doctor beamed. At last things were going well. Maybe not well. They were going better. That was the word. _Better_.

----

So? It's that time when I ask you what you think again! How was it? Like it or hate it?

R&R! I'll see you all soon with a double chap-finale when I get back!

Ciao!

- D


	17. The Architect

Look who's back! Here I am ASAP with a new chapter as promised! Hope you like it!

**Not-for-lack-of-trying:** Thanks for the help! I'll use your explaination as it's a lot better than mine!

**ironyheartsap:** Hey there! Thanks for the support and for agreeing with me, I don't feel quite so harsh now.

**BattlestarCommander:** I still think that ownership of Doctor Who should belong to Russell T Davies and Stephen Moffatt, they are fantastic writers. Your other idea is good but I lean far more toward a crossover between Doctor Who and BSG rather than the other way around. Also the reason the Doctor comes to Earth at all is that it's sort of a nostalgia trip, he spends a lot of time elsewhere, that's why he travels so much. He also does visit America every now and again, New York in particular.

----

**Chapter Seventeen: The Architect**

The Doctor was in awe, nothing short of awe. He'd been excited for the entire journey to the cylon fleet much to the irritation of everyone around him. He was literally bouncing. The Master, who was seated next to him in handcuffs, had his head in his hands and was growling lightly. He beamed around him at the group of soldiers, rocking as he tinkered with some meaningless piece of equipment.

The cylon fleet, or what was left of it, was a huddled mass of Base Stars protecting the Resurrection Ship by hiding at the centre of a mass of gasses. There was no escape for them, no military power that would allow them to win. This was literally their last ditch attempt at survival. Some protested at allying with the humans but others knew that it was ally with them or die. Death was not high on the cylon list of priorities.

They docked and he noticed immediately that the humans became very uncomfortable as they were surrounded by cylons, both metal and organic. There was admittedly something intimidating about a seven foot tall robot. Again he was reminded of Cybermen, hearts of steel and metal thoughts. But these creatures gave off a vibe of curiosity. They were truly feeling and alive. They fought humans out of fear. How instinctive was that? But they had taken it a bit far and for that the Doctor found it difficult to forgive them. He also wondered what type of Time Lord would allow them to do it.

They were taken deep inside the strange ship, it was like a spliced cuboid and triangle. He glanced up around at the endless pods of cylons with interest; he would really like to look at the system that ran this place. It would have to be monumental to control so much so accurately. The Master only looked at the floor with mild disinterest. It was the same way he viewed everything nowadays. The Doctor whistled as he noticed the cables. There were thousands of cables running along the walls and floors and ceilings. All of them were flowing in the same direction that they were walking. Curious that.

They walked deep into the heart of the ship and he couldn't help but feel that the whole thing was alive, alive and humming. "This way," a seven said curtly as he lead them down a large corridor to a pair of double doors. The doors were deadlock sealed, whatever was behind them was very important.

They hissed threateningly as they opened and the group emerged into a large antechamber. It was like a small hall lined with computers and wires. Cables from all over the ship fed here and were connected to a strange sort of bath that, in turn, was filled with a pinkish fluid. In the tank they could see a figure laid motionless. On nearby screens thousands of calculations scrolled by.

"This is him," the Doctor asked as he approached, walking as if he owned the place.

"Yes," one of the nearby cylons said reverently.

The Doctor looked into the tank and was almost shocked to find a child's face. Well a boy nearly a man, early teens. The eyes were expressionless and so the Doctor knew he still dreamed, only vaguely aware of their presence. The eyes were crystal blue and wide. He could feel it though, just about, something whispering on the edge of his senses. "Can you hear that?" he asked the Master, cocking his head.

"He's whispering," the Master confirmed. He tilted his head as well, "he's been alone for a very long time."

The Doctor looked, truly looked, and felt the familiar weight of certainty. "He's Time Lord," he confirmed, nodding.

"How can you be certain?" asked the Six that seemed to be in charge. Caprica Six was it?

"Easily. We always know our own kind when we see them. We're shape shifters so the ability to instinctively recognise one of our own is essential," the Master told them, leaning forward to look himself.

The Doctor was busy examining the computers wired into the tank, "he's connected to the whole ship?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes," was the prompt reply.

He reached inside his coat and pulled out the sonic screwdriver. He ran it over a nearby screen smoothly, watching intently as screens flashed before his eyes revealing screen after screen of information. He frowned slightly, "what's that for?" he asked, pointing to a line of code.

"I don't know," an Eight said as she leaned forward to examine it. "I've never seen it there before." Soon other cylons had clustered around the screen to look and given the same verdict.

The Doctor grinned, "now that is interesting. I wonder – Oh hello!" he exclaimed as suddenly a whole new set of subroutines opened up and began to scroll. "Someone's ghost written your system," he said slowly.

"What's ghost-writing?"

The Doctor looked over at Thrace, "you ask all the right questions! Ghost writing is hiding a program under another program, it seems unnecessary and will lie undetected for years, waiting for activation. Usually used in offensive battle systems actually," he scratched his hair and stared at the screen. "This one has been dormant for years, years and years and years! It's so articulate, you'd think a program this specific would be running things. You're sure that he controls the whole system?" He turned his attention back to the cylons.

"We did just tell you that," the one called Brother growled in annoyance.

"Of course!" the Doctor leapt to his feet suddenly, making them all jump. "You're a clone race aren't you? Thousands downloading into the same flesh model?"

The cylons nodded while the crew of Galactica listened intently, eager to figure out exactly where skin-jobs came from.

"Then why haven't you degenerated?" They looked at him non-plussed and he sighed angrily. "Think about it! You use the same template over and over and over, splice it again and again and again and you're bound to get genetic decay. Like inbreeding in humans! Gradually your entire race would degenerate into deformity. It would certainly take less than forty years. So why haven't you?"

The Cylons all looked at each other, no one had ever questioned this. It was simply a system devised by the Lost Angel.

"I'll tell you why! You're born out of a giant genetic recombinator! Every now and again it juggles the DNA that little bit, you wouldn't notice of course because you don't have the observational senses but I do. It changes perhaps one chromosoa in a thousand to make sure you are all sufficiently different but uniform in order to avoid degradation. This is what the overriding program in this room does, right?" He'd begun to pace back and forth, gesturing wildly with his hands. "You kill the program and every cylon on this ship dies. It's the perfect safecode."

"What, it's hiding then? The ghost-written thing?" Lee Adama asked from the back.

"Yes, yes it is," the grin on his face was broader than ever.

"But why?"

"Because no one would dare dissect this program so no one would discover his actual intent. Remember I said that someone was using this timeline for their own gains but I didn't know what for?" They all nodded, "well, now I do."

"Are you saying the Lost Angel is using us?" one cylon asked incredulously.

"In a manner yes and in a manner no. This war was always going to happen but what we have is a fugitive from a much more deadly war. Think, his species is extinct. He is on the run. He's got to consider that he may be the very last of his kind. What would you do if you were the last of your kind?" He looked around wildly, "any takers? No? God, you're all thick! You'd survive as long as you could to make your existence mean something. Now, imagine you're very clever. You have access to a new species looking for something to believe in, you have the ability to change your biology and, overall, you are smart enough to build a genetic recombinator." He looked around the room in awe.

"What exactly are you saying?" Roslin asked the question everyone was thinking.

The Doctor became very still and turned to look at her slowly. "What I'm saying, Madam President, is that this," he gestured to the computers, "is all designed to rebuild an entire race. With the ghost program he can specifically control DNA, vary it enough to resurrect a species. What a fitting name – the resurrection ship! HA!" He was literally dancing around.

"He wouldn't have enough pairs," they looked to the Master who'd been remarkably quiet. "He's need more than his own DNA."

"Oh come on, Master! You're clever! Where is this fleet going?" the Doctor was exasperated.

"Earth," the Master said slowly as if he were stupid.

"And who likes to visit earth? Oh wait. Me! The designer and builder of the world-ender that destroyed Gallifrey and Skaro! And you, you were known to have fled the Cruciform. He gambled on us being alive," the Doctor paused for breath. "He's a genius."

"Three sides," the Master said slowly.

"Exactly!"

"Three sides?" asked Baltar, eager to not be left out the loop.

"Remember I told you that our people traditionally had three reactions at our initiation? On a guess, a very good one mind you, I'm going to say that our friend here," he patted the Lost Angel on the head, "is an inspiritor! One of the inspired. I'm one of the ones who fled and he," he pointed to the Master, "is one who went mad. The reactions are argued to be genetically prompted and three is an optimum number. Between us we have enough DNA to recombinate our whole race. That was the original purpose of this machine!"

"The Time Lords would live again," scowled the Master. "The return of pomp and circumstance."

"So we've followed him for nothing?" Brother seemed almost triumphant that the Angel was proved false.

"No," the Doctor was suddenly solemn. "He helped you, he didn't need to but he did. Out of his own kindness. I told you, we're a peaceable race on principle."

He opened his mouth to babble more when the Lost Angel suddenly thrashed, just breaking through the anaesthesia. His teeth ground and his eyes rolled. A hand, slick with the strange fluid, seized the Doctor's arm. "The Lonely God and the Sound of Drums," he rasped by way of greeting.

"Hello there," the Doctor replied warmly.

"It's so cold, so cold in the dark. They are coming," his voice carried a tone of desperation.

"It's okay," the Doctor soothed, "I know."

"Everything was burning, everything was screaming. I tried to fly but I had no wings," the words seemed to jumble as he struggled to get them out. The narcotics were clouding his mind again.

The Doctor supported the Angel's upper body and reached inside his pocket for the watch. "Now," he told them, "the moment of truth!" He held the watch before the Angels face and, ever so slowly, released the catch.

Blinding gold light filled the room and swirled around the Angel's head. As he breathed it drew into his lungs. Suddenly his skins seemed to explode with a light of a similar colour, it streamed out and filled the room. The Doctor leapt back to avoid it.

"What the frack is that?" asked Tigh as he shielded his eyes.

"Regeneration energy," the Doctor replied, staring into it unafraid. "He's changing his biology. Listen!" A heartbeat suddenly seemed to echo through the room, it thudded quickly and, after a moment, seemed to double. "The second heart is reforming."

Kara Thrace tilted her head as the voice seemed again to whisper something, but it was lost in the light. There were chimes in her ears once more.

Abruptly as it had began the light vanished, retracting back into the form of the Angel who slid back into the fluid. No one moved. Suddenly a hand grabbed the edge of the tub. Cables were automatically retracted with a hiss. Slowly the Angel rose out of the slime and wiped it from his eyes. He blearily looked round at the group surrounding him and a grin slid onto his features. "Good afternoon," he greeted them. His hair was dark and messy, his eyes a clear blue. His face was young and honest.

"Afternoon," the Doctor replied as the Master nodded in greeting.

"How long has it been?" he asked, trying to stand up and ignoring the stunned faces of the others present.

"Around forty years, we're not sure," the Doctor told him as he slung his jacket over the teen's shoulders.

"Wow, that was longer than planned. What happened?" He was working the crick out of his neck.

"You companion creature got trapped on a Battlestar," the Doctor chuckled.

"Oh. Well, I didn't have a lot of time and he was already on the fritz," he ran a hand through his hair. He looked to them all carefully. First he turned to the cylons, "thank you," he told them, honesty drenching his words, "for taking care of me. I really appreciate it." His eyes then moved to Kara Thrace, "thank you, Kara Thrace, for looking after my watch."

He rubbed his eyes, he hadn't seen light in a long time. "Who are you?" the Doctor asked finally.

"Figures you wouldn't recognise me. Never combine a regeneration and a chameleon arch. So not a good idea. Never doing it again," he groaned as he stretched. "I'm the Architect."

There was a moment of silence. Finally it was Baltar who spoke, "Is that a title like the Doctor's?"

The boy smiled, "You bet. Received it initiation, or chose it, when I gazed into time and it gazed into me. I was inspired by what I saw. The things I could build!" He took a deep breathe. "They said I was the brightest Time Lord ever born. In truth I like to think I'm rather average – I mean the Doctor is smarter than me."

"Not by much," the Doctor put in glibly. "But it's more than that."

"How so?"

"He's my nephew," everyone turned the Doctor who was gazing at the boy as if he didn't know what to think. Slowly he opened his arms and they embraced. The Doctor pulled him close and drew in his scent, something he'd long forgotten. Even now the boy still smelled of the fields of Gallifrey, even now. "I thought everyone died," he whispered.

"They did," the Architect replied pulling away and smiling. "But I want you to know, uncle, no one blamed you. No one. It was the only way and we understood that. I got a away by sheer luck and even then I wasn't nearly fast enough to avoid a Dalek scout ship."

The Doctor looked up thoughtfully, "that is a point. How did you escape?"

"My TARDIS of course," the boy patted the loose trousers he was wearing, searching for pockets.

"Your TARDIS? She was too young for such a trip! It was stupid and foolhardy!" the Doctor growled.

"Made it didn't I?"

"By the skin of your teeth, I swear-"

"I just did what you do." That stopped the Doctor dead. "Even now your song is old, uncle. You're famous, the whole universe sings of you. The Lonely God, the most powerful Time Lord ever born. He throws down false gods and demons," the boy shook his head. "I always knew you would come for me."

The Doctor looked uncomfortable, "where is your TARDIS?" he asked at last.

"Oh! I'd forgotten about her!" The Architect bounded to the end of the tank and drew attention to a medium cardboard box no one had ever noticed. "Here she is," he said proudly.

"Very nice camouflage," the Master commented as he bent to have a look.

"What is it?" asked Thrace, approaching slowly.

"It's a space ship," the Architect told them blandly.

"That is a space ship?" Six said incredulously.

"Oi! Don't knock her!" the Architect exclaimed in mocking offense. "She doesn't look like much but she'll take you to the end of the universe and back! Well, as soon as I fix her."

"Why is it a cardboard box?"

"Well they are designed to blend in, shape shift to become indistinguishable. Great but also really irritating and sometimes they break and get stuck," the Doctor explained.

"Like your Police Box?" Thrace said, turning to the Doctor.

"Exactly so," the Doctor smiled. "Can we take a look inside?" He put a gentle hand on the side of the box and felt its soothing hum.

"Of course," the Architect said as, with surprising ease, he produced a key, inserted it into a lock placed on the top of the box and swung the lid open. They were surprised to find a set of stairs in the box, stairs longer than the box was big. To the Doctor there was a gentle song, a familiar song, whispering from inside. In the back of his mind he felt his own TARDIS stretch out in greeting. This was the reason she had brought him here.

The Architect descended first, the Master and Doctor close behind him. It was slightly different to the Doctor's TARDIS. Coral still formed the walls and spiralled up to the ceiling but it was more light blue than cream. It still glimmered with the same lights, showing it was alive. At the centre there was the same cylindrical engine and Time Rotor, both of which hadn't moved for so very long. The controls were slightly different; there was a headset off to one side. The Doctor could also see the damage, frayed circuits and tools littered the floor. Metal grill panels were raised and wires spewed out like guts.

"This is amazing," Baltar said, awed as he approached the control panel.

"We mustn't touch was isn't ours," the Architect scolded, steering him away from the hub. "Humans shouldn't see this sort of thing really."

"Wow, she's really had a number done on her. She's barely running," the Doctor said, looking closely at the hub.

"Well it has been awhile," the Architect conceded.

"How long were you falling in the time stream? It must've been centuries!"

"We were Time Looped so I think that may have passed the time," the Architect admitted, swiping a jacket off the back of a nearby seat.

"It was irresponsible!"

"And totally necessary, besides I survived didn't I?"

"Definitely related to you," the Master snorted, "no sense of danger."

"How can all this exist?" They turned to look at Roslin.

"What do you mean?" the Architect asked slowly.

"How does this room fit into that small box? What perversion of the gods is this?" He could just a tiny edge of hysteria.

"It's a simple act of dimensional displacement, that's what TARDIS stands for. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. We just live by slightly different rules to you that's all," the Doctor told her blithely.

"But this is impossible."

"I like that word, 'impossible'. Makes disobeying it a lot more fun," the Doctor grinned. They all just gaped at him. He sighed, why did humans take it so badly every time? The cylons were too by the looks of it. Things could be so difficult.

Suddenly the time console roared to life and lights flashed red, alarms beginning to sound. All three of them instantly darted to the control panel and began examining screens. "Come on," the Doctor growled as he thumped one to get a clearer picture.

"What's happening?" asked one of the cylons.

"Traces of Dalekanium picked up on long range scanners," the Architect confirmed as he tweaked another screen.

"They've found us," the Doctor said grimly.

----

All if revealed! How did you guys like it? I rewrote this ending part four times and I'm still not completely happy with it but I felt i'd deprived you all long enough. Any suggestions?

Remember, R&R and feed my happiness! Pity me for I lost the skin on the end of my toe in a mean game of volleyball and I need the love!

- D


	18. Journey's End

Well I'm back folks! It took slightly longer than planned but here I am.

I can't believe this is it...this is the last chapter. Well as far as my muse runs at any rate. It's been a long old haul but we made it!

Thanks for my continued support **not-for-lack-of-trying**, **FireSenshi2**, **ironyheartsap**, **Innogen**, **Dur'id the Druid**, **Huitt1989**, **Darklight**, **Polaron**, **Marcus S. Lazarus**, **meglar**, **RedZ**, **dead zed**, **Nedy Rahn** and **long live Warhammer 40k**!

You've all been absolute stars and really made this fun!

Now all that's out the way, hope you enjoy the ending. I tried to make it fitting for what I believed would really happen!

Enjoy and review!

Allons-y!

---

**Chapter Eighteen: Journey's End**

They became a blur as they sprinted up to the control deck of the battle ship where, similar to the young TARDIS, alarms were sounding left right and centre. There was a din of shouting as people and machines ran back and forth. Adama and Tigh were frantically hailing Galactica to set her on a battle footing. Meanwhile the Architect literally threw himself at the controls before anyone could stop him.

"What are you doing?" called a Nine as the boy desperately began to sort through the wires.

"We've got to match their subwave frequency with one of our own, resonate it and cancel it," the Architect said brusquely without looking up. The Doctor moved to join him, putting on his glasses swiftly. In unison they began to work, without words or gestures.

"Why are you doing that?" Roslin asked as Baltar moved to help them.

"We have to cancel out their signal," Baltar told her, "or they'll take over this ship like they've got the rest of the fleet."

"Colonial fleet has jumped away," confirmed Thrace from where she was radioing Galactica.

"Whereabouts are they?" Tigh asked.

"We don't have them on radar yet but we will within ten minutes, by then it'll be too late if we don't have the subwave operational," the Doctor said frantically as he tore through wires with his screwdriver.

"I thought you said he'd planned for this?" asked Tigh pointing to the Architect.

"I hoped he did," the Doctor corrected him.

"I did," confirmed the Architect, "but I need to get this up first. I never thought you would've released them. I didn't think the cylons were that stupid and I thought I'd have more time!" He was literally shouting at the end of it.

"We have six ships on radar," called a nearby cylon.

"Damn," growled the Doctor. "Feeding power to signal!"

"Accelerating and broadcasting," replied the Architect pushing a small button on the panel. The whole ship rocked slightly. "Relaying to outer ships."

"Outer ships receiving and emitting," confirmed another cylon.

"Galactica reports signal received," Thrace acknowledged. "Sending to colonial fleet to confirm and also emitting. We're green!"

"Well that's one mountain," the Architect sighed. "Let's have a look shall we? Put them on the visuals."

At his command a picture came up that instantly deadened the hearts of anyone who observed. Six cylon battle ships with full fleets of raiders approaching in battle formation set to destroy them. "By the gods," gasped Roslin. "This is the end."

"Naaah," the Doctor drawled with a grin. "Don't be defeatist! We're evenly matched and we only need to buy time. The only ones we're aiming for are the Daleks and ideally we need to get on the main control ship. It's that one," he jabbed a finger at the centre star.

"How can you be so sure?" a Brother asked.

"Easily, it's the most protected one and the Daleks believe themselves supreme. They'll sacrifice their pawns before they go anywhere. Waste not, want not after all," he replied putting the sonic screwdriver in his inside breast pocket.

"We just need time to activate defences is all," the Architect agreed.

"What defences do we have?" Adama asked quietly.

"I'm called the Architect, Admiral. Why do you think that is?" the boy said as he began fiddling with buttons on the control panel.

He looked over when the admiral hadn't said anything. "No guesses at all?"

"It's because he builds things," the Doctor mumbled through his sonic screwdriver. "We choose our title based on what we want to do. He wanted to build things. Create life."

"And I did," the Architect agreed.

The Doctor snorted, "You copied another race. The cytronians."

"Maybe a bit but that was only Claptrap and when I built him I'd only just entered the Academy. My newer models are a lot better. They just need a power boost is all," he almost fell over as he tried to multitask. "We need to latch them to the main power grid."

"Oh is that what you're doing?" the Doctor asked curiously.

"You didn't even know what he was doing?" The nearby watchers were incredulous.

"Well, I don't know everything. The day I do I might as well stop!" the Doctor laughed.

"They're firing a barrage!" someone called out just as the entire ship lurched.

"Raiders incoming," bellowed someone else.

"Reciprocate and prepare nuclear weaponry," someone commanded.

It was pandemonium as people jostled and the sound of fire crackled over the radio. "They won't hit us," the Doctor said, still hurrying.

"Why do you say that?" asked Tigh who was holding on for dear life.

"Because they have as much need for a genetic recombinator as we do. If anything they'll try and take the ship!"

"And we'll be ready," the Architect said grimly as he connected to cables. "Powering up defences!"

"They're engaging a transmat," a bored voice said from behind them and they turned to look at the Master. He'd been oddly quiet.

"What's a transmat?" asked a cylon through the sound of shouting.

"It's a type of teleport," the Doctor replied, "Where's it going?"

"Central chamber," the Master replied. "They're heading for the brain of this place. Tactical and efficient."

"We've got to get down there," the Doctor said. "Can you hold the bridge? Keep them at bay?" he asked those present.

"Consider it done," growled Adama.

"You'll have to work together," the Doctor reminded them.

"I said 'consider it done'. Now go, Doctor." Adama turned his back on them as he prepared to coordinate. The Doctor grinned as he took off at a sprint. He was not letting to civilisations die here, two that had only just started to mend their ways. He was sick of it all. He flew down the hallways hectically, the Master and Architect close behind him.

The flew into the room and immediately began dismantling computers, examining them. Anything to create a weapon. They didn't have the technology for a Time Lock and the guns present wouldn't even touch a Dalek's polycarbite casing. As they took the computers apart they did so with the single minded intent that the Daleks should never get a hold of it. Time Lord science would not resurrect their race. Not again.

"Transmat engaged," the Master warned and there was a sudden buzzing.

There were three flashes of golden light and suddenly the three Time Lords stood opposite the last three Daleks in the universe. For a second no one moved. "**Alert! Alert! You are identified as the fugitive!**" one shrieked as they spotted the Architect.

"Yeah, about that-"

"**You will be exterminated!**" it screamed.

"Hold up! Just a second! Think about what you're doing!" the Doctor shouted and the attention of the Daleks swivelled to him. Their eyestalks twitched and focused, scanning him.

"**Alert! You are the Doc-Tor!**" one spoke, sliding back away from him.

"That's me," he grinned. "But before you exterminate me, and I'm sure you will, consider this. You've lost, what's the point of killing me now? You have no reason to." He put his hands in his pockets and strode forward. The Daleks backed away from him.

"**We** **must rejoin the war! You are an enemy of the Daleks. You will be exterminated!**"

"That's just it! Don't you get it? The war is over. You lost and we lost. There is no Skaro. There is no Gallifrey. You are the last of your kind. If you had any ounce of sense you would be pleading to survive," the Doctor groaned rubbing the bridge of his nose.

There was a moment of silence.** "The Daleks are gone?"** one asked after a while.

"Yes, long gone." There was only sadness in his eyes.

"**Then we will prove out supremacy by using the Time Lord DNA recombinator to restore our race. Daleks are supreme!**" The foremost Dalek concluded. "**Secure the device!**" The other two Daleks glided forward.

The Master got in the way, he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "**You will step away from the controls,**" the Dalek he faced commanded.

"No." The word was final, defiant and bold. The Doctor goggled, he'd never seen the Master be so obstinate.

"**You will move!**"

"No."

"**Then you will be exterminated!**" The gun came up in slow motion as the laser fired.

"No!" the Doctor bellowed running to catch him. He wasn't dead, not yet. Daleks are at heart a cruel race, they prefer to kill slowly by burning the nervous system. The Master swallowed in pain. "Come on, regenerate," the Doctor growled.

"Look, déjà vu," the Master gurgled, laughing. "I think we've done this before."

"Regenerate, you idiot," the Doctor whispered, holding him gently.

"You know what comes next," the Master choked. "You managed to force a regeneration before but I doubt you can now. You don't have the power. Death is better than an eternity with you." He swallowed again and a mad grin crossed his face, "I can hear the Drums. Can't you, Doctor?" He gripped the Doctor's arm tighter and then he was gone.

"Why did he do that?" the Architect asked sadly.

"He wanted to die but he could never kill himself," the Doctor replied. "Death was better than living with me I guess, he always said that." The Doctor felt tears for, evil as this man was, he was still his friend. Or had been once.

The silence was cut by a strange ding, like a chime being struck extra hard. "**What was that?**" a Dalek screeched, its dome swivelling to face the Architect.

The Architect pulled a remote out of his pocket and examined it. "Power's ready," he told them brightly and pushed the central big red button.

For a second nothing happened. Nothing moved. Then there was a loud clunk as sections of the wall seemed to disconnect. Three blocks that had seemingly held no importance that, now the Doctor thought on it, must have had perception filters on. They thudded to the ground as the walls ejected them.

There was a high pitch whine emitted from them and suddenly invisible panels began to move on hidden rollers. They slid back as hidden machinery rearranged itself around organic nerves. Shapes formed and suddenly they weren't blocks. They were animals, like Claptrap but much, much bigger. They stood the size of Earth big cats. They weren't as friendly as Claptrap either for they were covered in blades. One opened its mouth and roared, showing ferocious fangs. Well that and what appeared to be a laser.

"What are they?" the Doctor asked in shock.

"My babies of course. Built them myself, improved versions of Claptrap's design. Carnage, Ravage and Tim!" the Architect replied.

"You called one 'Tim'?"

"It seemed a good idea at the time!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"**Enemy sighted**" the nearest Dalek cried as the smallest one of them, Tim, bounded forwards fluidly. It agilely leapt over the Dalek's laser blast and injected a substance into the dome from a needle placed at the end its long and flexible tail. It perched on the top of the Dalek a moment longer before darting towards the others. The Dalek screamed as the bronze dome began to turn black and rot at a shocking pace. "**Casing impaired! Casing impaired! Molecular dissolution virus detected!**" The one next to it made smiliar sounds as it fell to the same fate.

The last two creatures, the bigger ones, leapt forward in unison. There was a terrible screech of metal as erdicantium claws and teeth ripped through weakened polycarbite casing. Each opened their mouths and a whir proceeded the firing of a bright red cutting laser into the Dalek shell. It scooped the creatures out, dicing them into pieces across the floor of the antechamber. The death was quick and merciful. The Daleks, if there had been more of them, would have dealt with these creatures easily. But the even numbers and the speed of the creations meant that the dispatch was swift. The last Daleks in the universe guttered and died.

"Kind of disappointing," the Architect remarked in the silence that followed. "Our whole world was destroyed by _this_," he gestured to the Daleks that were now smudges on the metal floor. "It's sad. All that intelligence gone. They could have been great."

"That's how the universe will die, how all great things will die. Not with a fanfare, not with glory but with a small, pathetic whimper," the Doctor muttered in reply, disgust in his voice.

Though they should have been happy, the sounds of victory from the bridge dictated so, the Architect and the Doctor couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sadness. Too many had died that day. They looked to the ground at the broken form of the mad Time Lord and they wept for their fallen brother.

-----

"What will you do?" Baltar asked the Doctor much later. Carnage, Ravage, Tim and Claptrap milled around him, utterly docile. They were quite tame once the Architect removed the spikes. Well, that can be said of most things.

"Same old life I suppose, travelling here to there," he said non-committally from where he was gathering some pieces together for the Architect. Helping him get ready to move to the Battlestar.

"I'm sorry about your friend, the Master," Baltar continued.

"It was what he wanted. At least we have his DNA, suppose that's something at least," the Doctor replied. There was a silence.

"I thought you were going to resurrect your species?" Baltar said after a moment, moving to help him.

"This is the primary cylon way of reproducing. Thinking on it, even if I was the one who built it, it would be wrong to take if from them," the Architect replied as he carried a box into the room. He dumped it on the floor.

"Can't you build another resurrection ship?" this question came from a Six that had also wandered in to help.

"It isn't that simple, we don't have the parts. Always down to the stupid parts," the Doctor sighed, "even if we have the DNA."

The humans and cylons present looked at each other, "you have done us a great favour," Adama said finally. "All of us."

"It has been decided that the time of our resurrection must come to an end," an Eight continued. "To better understand humans we must become as mortal as they are. Even in the texts of the One God it is decreed that no creature should live forever. Mortality lends us morality."

The Doctor smiled, if only he could've taught the Cybermen that gem of knowledge. He moved to speak but Roslin held up a hand to silence him. "You once told me I couldn't know the whole universe and all its diversities of life, Doctor. And I'll admit I don't. That scares me and it scares me to death but at the same time it's wonderful. You are wonderful."

"It's as the Lost Angel said," continued a Seven. "You are like Fire and Ice and Rage. You are the Night and the Storm at the heart of the Sun. And yet you are wonderful for it."

"You, who are so different, have showed us the wisdom of the gods. In light of this it has been decided that you and your kind should take this ship and rebuild that wisdom. Rebuild it so that youmay hand it down to man after man, child after child for generations to come across the stars." Roslin smiled gently, "I am dying, Doctor. Cancer diagnosed back when Caprica was still whole. But I find I no longer fear it. It is not the end of times. The universe is so much bigger. The end is so much farther."

He stared at them. This was not what he had expected. He looked to the Architect. He hadn't expected it either. "You know," he said at last, "I'm very good at talking and for the first time I don't know what to say." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Just say thanks," a voice laughed behind him and he turned to see Kara Thrace.

He grinned widely, "thank you. Thank you all," he beamed.

"No, Doctor," Lee Adama disagree stepping forward, "thank _you_."

The Doctor looked at them for a long moment before suddenly shouting 'oh!' and pulling a mobile phone out of his pocket. "Very important number, gotta get it right," he muttered as he dialled and set it to speaker phone.

There was a moment as they waited for it to connect. "Dominos pizza, may I take your order?" a bored voice said.

"Oops," the Doctor hung up and redialled, waiting again.

"This is Captain Jack Harkness," a strongly accented voice answered after a few seconds when the call connected.

"Jack, it's the Doctor," he said brightly.

"Doctor! How've you been? Where've you been?" the American replied happily.

"This isn't a social call, Jack, and I'd really appreciate it if you didn't flirt with me," the Doctor said uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. In the background Thrace chuckled. "I need a favour."

"That means you get to owe me for something, I'm all for it. What do you need?"

"As long as it isn't dancing I'm sure I'll live. Earth's got some visitors coming," this caused every head in the room to look up.

"Oh? Alien?" the voice didn't sound bothered at all.

"No, human. They're coming home," the Doctor smiled at them.

"Seriously? Where've they been?" Jack asked incredulously.

"You remember the Cataclysm in three thousand BC?" the Doctor responded with a question.

"Yeah? The one we don't know about yet but still?"

"These are the colonists, they coming home."

"Wow. It's about time," the voice had become welcoming and warm. "Hey there," it called out suddenly. "If I know the Doctor like I do I bet he's put this on speaker phone."

"Hi," Roslin said back uncertainly. "I'm Laura Roslin, President of the Colonial Fleet."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," he responded warmly.

"That's enough of that," the Doctor said warningly. "And don't salute!"

"Can't I say hello to anyone anymore?"

"No."

"Tough crowd. Anyone else coming too?"

The Doctor looked at the cylons who were shifting nervously, he smiled widely. "Yes, whole new species but as much right to live there as any."

"Right, I'm on it. How long do we have?" They were surprised at how accepting he was.

"A year, no more," the Doctor replied and, for the first time in a very long time, the colonials felt hope.

"I'll make sure they have a welcoming party. There a lot of them?"

"About a hundred thousand," the Doctor replied easily.

"Consider it done, old friend. Now about that dance-"

"Thank you, Jack. I'll take my leave," the Doctor moved to hang up.

"Wait!" The Doctor paused. "Don't forget, Doctor, you have family here. We do miss you, you know. Come see us some time."

"I will do," the Doctor laughed. "I just have some things to take care of first. Goodbye, Jack."

"Later," the other responded as he hung up.

"You didn't have to do that," Adama said after a moment of silence.

"Yes I did, they're as paranoid as you. Not as advanced though. You'll have to be patient with them," he laughed and put the phone in his pocket.

"You said something about a 'cataclysm', you know how the colonies were founded?" asked a nearby soldier.

"Oh yes," the Doctor replied grandly.

"You going to tell us?"

"Naah, that would be telling." And it was like that that the most remarkable being they'd ever met walked out of their lives. He gave them unity and hope. He gave them peace. A year later the human-cylon alliance did indeed reach Earth. The first to greet them was a handsome dark haired man in a long grey coat, he a strong accent and warm smile. Jack Harkness was there as promised. It was only then that the true First Great and Bountiful Human Empire began, with cylon help, in 2015.

As for the Time Lords they walked across the stars, ships in tow, searching for a home. Some say that, at the centre of Orion's Belt orbiting the star Betleguese, they found a planet with an orange sky and red grass. They say it had moutains capped with snow and copper trees - well they couldn't have everything. Some even say that it was there that they made their home, that once again the Time Lords began to stand tall, if after a few tentative steps. TARDISes grew in the valleys once more and laughter flowed on the air. The song of the Time Lords resonated across the universe for all to hear. Well all that could hear.

But honestly, the Earth wasn't to know any of that. Not yet. The Doctor would continue to wander and they would continue to see him in passing. For both the human-cylon colonists and the people of Earth the emergence of New Gallifrey hadn't even happened yet. It was still all in the making.

Or at least that's what a man in a blue box told them as he sauntered off into the night with a spring his step and grin on his face.

-----

That's it. That's all she wrote. How did you like it? Do you like how I would've changed BSG2003's ending from the mashcrap they fed us? Sorry, not that I hated it you understand.

I feel...I don't know...incomplete. A bit of my life is finished. Sigh. Just in time to return to uni I guess...

BUT THIS ISN'T ALL!

I've begun my new fic set, a series of one shots based around the Doctor. I was sick of all those Rose and Doctor fics where Rose has to be a single parent and raise the Doctor's son. 'Enough' I thought to myself! What if situations were reversed? How would the Doctor cope?

Basically there are 12 oneshots I've written in total (don't ask where they've come from) set as sects of the Doctor and his son's lives. Read them as see what you think!

Now that shameless plugging is over please read and review, tell me what you think!

So long (for now) and thanks for all the fish!

- D


End file.
